


it's a slow reveal, what a pretty girl feels

by Arrowed



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma/Past Abuse, Crappy Ex-boyfriend, F/F, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Nicole Haught is looking respectfully, Romance, Wynaught bromance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 60,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrowed/pseuds/Arrowed
Summary: Grumpy Waverly Earp just dealing with all the men of Purgatory trying to date her and also Nicole Haught who isn’t trying to date her, but definitely wants to, so why the hell won’t she step up to it?Not that Waverly cares or anything.
Relationships: Waverly Earp/Nicole Haught
Comments: 911
Kudos: 1366





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey fellow Wayhaught lovers! Super excited to be sharing this story with you awesome people! Please drop a comment if you're interested in seeing where this is going. Happy Reading! :)

Waverly quietly pushed open the backdoor to the homestead. It was just past midnight and she didn’t want to disturb her sister and get the third degree about why she wasn’t out having fun with her friends.

She had told Wynonna she wouldn’t be back for the night, but that turned into a joke. Waverly didn’t even want to think about it. She just needed to lay in her bed.

Two sets of laughter erupted and piqued her curiosity. Was Nicole still here? She and Wynonna had been drinking when she left earlier.

“Come on, Haughty. How many girls have you turned?”

Wavery could practically hear the deputy rolling her eyes from the living room and she smiled. Nicole was so the opposite of her sister sometimes and their friendship was pretty entertaining.

“Shut up, Earp. You can’t turn girls. You can only show them what they weren’t seeing before.”

Wynonna giggled and hiccupped. “Bet you’d love to show Waverly what she hasn’t been seeing before.”

Waverly’s smile dropped like a cement block.

“How you can talk about your own sister like that?”

“What? I’m not blind.”

Waverly quietly slipped off her heels and padded closer. She peeked around the entryway and saw Wynonna sprawled out on the couch, feet dangling over the back. Nicole was sitting on the floor, one arm resting on the sofa cushion with her legs kicked out in front of her, peeling the label off her beer.

She looked much more sober than Wynonna who was cradling a bottle of whiskey, looking glassy-eyed and ready to fly off.

“Come on,” Wynonna pushed. “You like her, right?”

Nicole’s brow furrowed and Waverly’s heart sped up. Nicole?

“I…yeah.”

The smile slipped off Wynonna’s face.

“Hey, I’m not making fun of you, Haught.”

“I know, Wynonna. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

Waverly felt uncomfortable and exhausted and overwhelmed at the thought of that possible conversation.

She couldn’t handle Nicole confessing feelings for her on top of every other guy in Purgatory chasing her like she was a prize to be won. She couldn’t take another person springing themselves on her. People just needed to slow down and let her breathe for a goddamn second.

“No.”

Waverly blinked. What? No? Why not?

“Why not? She’ll probably figure it out with how you’ve been staring at her.”

“I didn’t realize I was so obvious,” Nicole murmured.

“Yeah, like she’s the fudge to your sundae.”

“I’ll tone it down.”

“But she’s vegetarian, wait, vegan, maybe she’s into other v-things as well.”

Nicole laughed. “I don’t think that’s how that works, Wynonna.”

Sometimes Waverly wanted to strangle her big sister.

“Okay. But why not try? You’re like the only person in this town who would treat her right.”

Nicole looked over her shoulder and smiled gently at Wynonna. “You’re a sweet drunk.”

“Shh, don’t tell anyone I’m a secret softy. I got a badass rep to maintain.”

Nicole knocked her head to the side of Wynonna’s. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Earp.”

“So?” Wynonna asked.

“So?”

“So…why won’t you tell Waverly? She deserves to know all her options.”

Nicole snorted. “Believe me, Wynonna, I think Waverly is well aware of her options. All the shitheads in this town flocked to Shorty’s when she worked there and harassed her. I think she’s just trying to figure herself out, you know?” Nicole shook her head and gestured with her hand and maybe she was a little more buzzed than Waverly had assumed. “She’s just so nice to everyone and she never wants to make people feel like they’re bothering her, but I think she just needs to be Waverly first.”

“What does that even mean?” Wynonna slurred, taking a swig off the whiskey bottle.

“I don’t know, Wynonna. I just want her to be comfortable with me and she’s been really welcoming and nice and I like the easiness I have with her. Why inject all that tension in there?”

“Tension is good though, makes the sex better.”

Nicole coughed and sputtered her beer mid-sip. A smile caught the corner of Waverly’s mouth.

Waverly went to the backdoor, opening it loudly and while not slamming it, she made sure it was heard as she pushed it shut.

The house fell dead silent. When she walked into the living room, shoes still in hand, she had to hold back her laughter at the sight of Wynonna sitting properly on the couch with Nicole perched next to her, posture upright and eyes a little round from surprise.

“Hey, babygirl! We weren’t talking about you!”

“Hah,” Nicole laughed nervously, ripping the bottle of whiskey out of Wynonna’s hand. “This one has had a lot to drink!”

Wynonna tried to get her liquor back, but Nicole was quick to her feet, holding the bottle high over her head. Her impressive height made Wynonna grumble and snatch Nicole’s beer instead.

Shaking the bottle at Waverly, she asked, “Why are you home, thought you were at Stephanie’s bachelorette thing tonight.”

Waverly huffed. “Yeah, and what a mistake. She ditched me, Rach, Sonya and Chrissy in the city so she could go screw a stripper. She’s cheating on her fiancé and none of our friends would say anything to her. I’m done with it. I’m going to bed, I’d like to forget this night happened,” Waverly said, passing by the pair and heading up the stairs.

She dropped her shoes and her purse on the floor, locking the bedroom door behind her. She slumped against it. “Holy shit sticks,” she whispered. She wasn’t touching that situation with a ten-foot pole.

* * *

Waverly was coming out of a meeting with Deputy Marshal Dolls when she saw her ex standing by the front desk with a bouquet of flowers.

Her forehead creased with irritation. “Champ,” she muttered. This wasn’t the first time and she was tired.

Officer Lonnie was looking awkward as he gestured with his hands. “You have a visitor, Miss Earp.”

“Hey, Waverly, can we talk?” Champ asked, looking boyish and hopeful.

“Nope!” came a voice from behind them. Waverly turned to see Wynonna stomping into the police station, donut in hand with Nicole trailing behind. “No failed law enforcement recruits in the precinct! Also, are you harassing my baby sister at her place of work, Champ, because while I do not know the law too well, you can bet your bull-riding ass my best friend here has something to charge you with!”

Wynonna smacked the back of her donut hand into Nicole’s chest and Nicole grimaced, batting her hand away and brushing the sugar dusting off her uniform shirt.

The deputy looked between Waverly and Champ. 

“Is Hardy here harassing you?” Nicole asked her directly.

“Uh, no, all good here.” Waverly definitely did not need Champ in lockup. He was persistent, and was the straying sort, which brought on their breakup in the first place, but he’d only ever ask for her forgiveness and a second chance, then leave when she rejected him.

She worried sometimes that he thought if he just kept showing up, she’d get worn down enough to take him back.

The notion terrified her if she dwelled on it too long.

Nicole grabbed Wynonna by the scruff of her coat and hauled her towards the breakroom. “Come on, Earp,” she muttered as Wynonna flailed, still trying to take a bite of her jelly-filled. “Waverly can handle herself, you still owe me lunch.”

Waverly found herself staring curiously at Nicole’s back.

“So,” Champ interrupted, forcing Waverly’s gaze back on his bashful face. “I was hoping I could take you down to the steakhouse tonight, it’s my parents’ anniversary and they’ve been asking when you’d come around.” He held out his flowers and Waverly pushed them back into his chest.

“Champ, please. Just tell them we broke up already. It’s not fair, and the next time your mom catches me at the grocery store, if you haven’t told her we’ve separated, I’m not doing you any favors and playing along like we’re still together.”

Waverly turned on her heel to leave, but then whirled around. “And the next time you come bother me here, where I work, I’m letting Wynonna loose on you.”

A wounded look crossed Champ’s face.

“Waverly! I’m sorry! It’s just, ever since you quit Shorty’s, I never see you. How else can I get your forgiveness?”

“I forgave you already, Champ. The first time and the second time and the third time you asked for it.”

She grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the BBD offices that were unoccupied, realizing that Lonnie and a few other officers were starting to notice them. She pushed Champ into an empty interrogation room, but left the door open since this area was off limits and Dolls was locked away in his office. “Why do you keep insisting on more than forgiveness? I’m not holding a grudge.”

Champ dropped the bouquet on the interrogation table, resting his hands on her shoulders. “And that’s why I love you, Waverly. You’re forgiving and you never hold grudges. I made a mistake, but you always forgive me. There’s no one in this town like you. I need you, babe.”

“No!” she snapped, pulling back and away from his hold on her. “You just want some dummy who’s gonna look past it every time you mess up. I’m done being that girl, Champ!”

“Don’t say that about yourself, Waverly. You’re not dumb, you’re a really good person.”

“Thank you, but the answer is still no. And please stop showing up here. I’ve only been working with Black Badge for a month, and if my boss finds out that you’re coming here, he’s going to have a problem with my personal life interfering in my work life and I don’t need that right now, Champ! This job is important to me.”

Champ put his hands up in surrender, like he understood, and yet, “Just like you’re important to me, Waverly! I think I get to fight for us. We’ve been together since High School, we can’t just throw it all away!”

“You can’t fight for this, goddammit! I don’t want you to!”

Champ sighed and looked over mournfully at his flowers. “You don’t know how much this sucks for me. The guys at the rodeo treat me like a laughingstock. Ever since you broke up with me, all I get are jokes about how I’m the fool who fumbled the ball with the best thing in Purgatory.”

“I’m not a thing!” Waverly growled. “God, this town just pisses me off sometimes! Do you even think before you open your mouth! You may be a laughingstock now, but do you know how many jeers and jibes I took from my sister, from my friends, and at Shorty’s when Sheriff Nedley found you half-naked in your truck with that floozy! How many I-Told-You-So’s I had to take, and let me frickin’ tell you Champ Hardy, it was no fun for me. You got off and I got left holding the bag. At least have the decency to leave me in peace after everything you put me through!” Waverly yelled, putting her hands up in prayer. She didn’t know how many more of these conversations she could really take. They all ended the same with Champ.

Champ’s mouth opened and closed before he nodded. He picked up his bouquet and held it out. Waverly sighed and took it. He ambled out of the room and left the station like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Waverly pressed the palms of her hands into her eyes, surprised to find they were wet with tears.

“Oh, Earp,” she heard softly. Her boss walked into the room a moment later.

Waverly blinked and tried to keep the wobble in her voice from surfacing. “I’m sorry, Deputy Marshal Dolls. I won’t let that happen again. I’ll file a restraining order if he doesn’t stop coming here. I don’t want my personal life interfering with my work. I love this job.”

The normally distant man crossed his arms and looked in the direction of where Champ had walked off.

“Hey,” he said, walking further into the room and smiling gently. “You handled that well. It’s not your fault he doesn’t respect professional boundaries. Go talk to Lonnie, he’s on reception duty right now, tell him to add Champ Hardy to our Do Not Admit list. If he comes back, he’ll be escorted out of the station and you won’t have to go to the trouble of filing a restraining order.”

Waverly was overcome with relief and felt the urge to hug her boss, but she held back because she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He didn’t seem like the hugging type.

“Thank you, Sir.”

He sighed and walked over, holding his arms out. “Come on, you get one and we never talk about this again.”

Waverly beamed and inserted herself into his embrace. Xavier Dolls was safe. So married to his job, so respectful of his employees, she never worried about an unwanted advance from him and it was nice to be hugged without it having to mean more than what it was.

* * *

“Heyo – incoming!”

Waverly flinched as she entered the breakroom, seeing Wynonna hurl a pack of M&M’s at the back of Nicole’s head.

Nicole sidestepped, causing the little package to bounce off the wall above the coffee machine. She caught it, tucking the candy into the pocket of her black uniform pants without comment before she continued to pour water into the coffee machine.

“Never gets old,” Wynonna murmured reverently.

Nicole laughed. “You don’t go through high school and the academy as the only out lesbian and not develop quick reflexes.”

Waverly’s heart dropped and Wynonna’s mouth tugged into a frown.

“Man, teenagers and overcompensating jerkoffs are the worst, Haught.”

“Tell me about it.” Nicole grabbed a coffee filter and looked over her shoulder, pausing at the sight of Waverly in the doorway. “Hey,” she said, eyes going soft. “Everything okay?”

“Babygirl!” Wynonna waved her into the room. “Do I have to kick any rodeo clown butt?”

Waverly rolled her eyes. “Considering Champ can wrestle a steer to the ground in under a minute, I’m not sure you could.”

Wynonna’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me, I’ll have you know I have wrestled many a formidable foe in my time.”

“Mudwrestling strippers at Pussy Willows doesn’t count,” Nicole said, smirking at the affronted look plastering itself across Wynonna’s face.

“Wow,” she said, glaring between the two. “Didn’t realize it was pick on BBD’s best deputy day.”

“You mean BBD’s only deputy?” Waverly questioned.

“You know what?” Wynonna grumbled, getting up. “I do not have to put up with this.”

“We’re sorry,” Nicole said, pulling the M&M’s out of her pocket and tossing them to Wynonna. “A token of my apology.”

“But this was the lunch I owed you.”

Nicole filled the coffee filter with fresh grounds, shut the lid and flipped the switch on before turning around, dusting her hands off.

“Don’t sweat it, Earp. You’ll owe me lunch tomorrow, preferably something I can actually subsist on.”

Wynonna ripped open the package. “Dammit,” she mumbled, pouring a couple of M&M’s into her hand and tossing them into her mouth.

“You want some coffee, Waverly?” Nicole asked.

“Uh, I was going to make myself a tea, actually.”

The deputy nodded and moved over to the rarely used electric tea kettle. She picked it up and carried it to the sink, rinsing it out before filling it to the one cup mark, then went to plug it in and turn it on. Nicole grabbed a folder and sat herself at the end chair of their cluttered breakroom table.

Waverly found herself staring at the officer’s movements, noticing the ease with which she moved through a familiar space, cataloguing just how long her limbs were, and the way she casually crossed one leg over the other as she read through her file with an attention that was delicate, her index finger trailing the length of a sentence, as though she were committing the information to her memory.

Wynonna on the other hand was scrolling through her phone, probably studying images of their latest BBD case, munching away, looking wired and in need of her morning caffeine.

Waverly was still getting used to being part of the team. Mostly she worked with Wynonna and Dolls as their consultant, but she still often found herself in the communal areas, chatting with cops and getting a feel for what it took to protect and serve in the name of a greater good.

Everyone in this building had had a brush with death and still came back every day. She was beginning to really like the goodness within their characters, even with the solemn knowledge that one day she might walk in here and someone else might not.

It was definitely a step up from serving pints at Shorty’s.

The coffee pot filled and the tea kettle whistled. Nicole quietly rose to pour two mugs of coffee. Waverly took care of her tea and felt strange standing side by side with Nicole while she added sugar and cream to Wynonna’s cup. Waverly fidgeted with the string of her teabag.

Nicole paused, glancing over at Waverly and catching her stare. Her mouth quirked up in a questioning smile. Waverly didn’t look away.

Nicole’s brow furrowed and she looked back down at the coffees she was preparing. She turned to face Waverly fully.

“Sugar?” she asked, holding out two packets.

Waverly accepted them and watched the steam swirl from her drink.

Nicole picked the mugs by their handles and set one down by Wynonna before returning to her chair.

Wynonna mumbled a quiet, “I love you,” which could have been directed at Nicole or the coffee she hummed over, eyes never breaking from the screen of her phone.

Nicole continued her perusal of the file she had been studying and Waverly sat across her, rummaging through her purse to find her own phone.

She had four texts from Champ, one from Stephanie, and two from Chrissy. She read Champ’s first then deleted them.

Stephanie was asking if she was still joining them shopping for bridesmaid dresses and Chrissy was pleading for her to come along. Waverly could feel her stress levels rising. She didn’t know how to get rid of this instinct to always yield to her friends. She often found herself wondering if there would come a time in her life where she could tell them she would like nothing more than to never be bothered again.

But breaking up with Champ was drama enough, so she ignored the texts and hoped she would find the fortitude to answer them later.

Just as she went to put her phone away, her screen lit up with a new text.

Curiously, she unlocked her phone.

_You okay over there? You seem a bit unsettled. – Nicole._

Waverly looked up to see Nicole staring back at her encouragingly.

That was all she needed to start typing away furiously on her phone.

_The more I grow as a person, the more I notice just how immature my friends are. I don’t even know how I had a boyfriend for so many years who’s turned out to be nothing more than a muscular man-child who tries to butter his way back into my life with some cheap flowers and a guilt trip every month. I’m so tired of people wanting things from me, or making me feel complicit in their poor choices. My friend who is getting married, the one I mentioned the other night, she cheated on her fiancé! How can I go to that wedding and sit there and then sip champagne, knowing that that poor guy she’s with is being made a fool? I’ve been made a fool and it’s terrible! I just wish I could ignore all of it, but I can’t. – Waverly._

Waverly watched as Nicole read over the text message and then felt guilty for venting. Nicole looked up across the table and shot her a sad smile before she typed out a response.

_I’m so sorry you’re dealing with that. Friendship should feel good. Should come with no strings and a lot of laughs. A shoulder to cry on and a person to share the good stuff and the bad stuff. I can’t tell you what to do, but I think you’re well on your way to knowing what you want out of future friendships. I know me and Wynonna hang out a lot, but if you need a friend, I can be that for you, too. – Nicole_

Waverly felt panicked. Knowing Nicole’s feelings and then this offer of friendship. Nicole was nice, was kind, she didn’t want that getting complicated, or confusing, especially for Nicole.

God, the last thing she wanted to do was make Nicole think she was interested and then have to hurt her feelings.

_That’s a very kind offer, Nicole. Thank you. I think with all the stuff I’m dealing with, I just need to be on my own with it until I feel more settled. – Waverly_

Waverly winced. Nicole’s expression remained neutral as she read over the text. She went to respond, but her radio crackled to life. Nicole answered the dispatch and stood up.

“Call me if you see anything weird out there, Red.”

Nicole drained the last of her coffee, tucked her file under her arm and nodded. “Sure thing. See you later.” She looked at Waverly and her gaze was unreadable. She rapped her knuckles on the wooden tabletop and murmured a soft, “Take care, Waves,” before strolling out of the breakroom.


	2. Chapter 2

Waverly just wanted a Garden salad and some French fries from Mama Olive’s diner, but as she leaned against the front counter, Kyle York sidled up to her with his most winning smile.

“Waverly Earp, it must be my lucky day.”

Twisting her fingers together over the tabletop, Waverly smiled blandly. “Hey, Kyle.”

“I know you ain’t been broken up with Hardy more than a few months, but there’s no time like the present. What do ya say? Dinner with me, here tonight?” he asked.

“Actually, I’m meeting a friend. Sorry, Kyle.” A little white lie to hopefully salvage the rest of her night. 

His smile dropped. “Oh, that’s fine. Next time then.” 

The waitress came by with a single menu and smiled knowingly at Waverly. “Your usual table?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you, Grace.”

As she made to follow, Kyle trailed alongside her. “At least let me walk you to your table. We can gab ‘til that friend of yours gets here.”

Waverly’s heart sank. Instead of a relaxing meal in a nice cozy corner of the diner, she was going to have to fend off his unwanted flirtations, then pretend some made up person bailed on her, and Kyle was probably going to interpret it as fate or destiny.

“Sure,” Waverly murmured. With each step, she felt her mood darken, and then, in his eagerness to be nearer to her, Kyle moved close to Waverly a little too hastily, his clunky steel-toed work boot landing awkwardly on her much smaller foot.

She yelped and attempted to move away as Kyle cursed out a shocked, “Oh shit!” and jerked his foot back, causing Waverly to trip up and stumble to the side.

Her shoulder hit the corner of a booth they were passing by and unable to regain her footing, she kept tumbling backwards, hip knocking hard into the end of the table, hands searching for anything to grab onto, utterly mortified the moment she realized the momentum of her fall only stopped because she had landed in someone’s lap.

Her arms reflexively clung around two stiff shoulders as she processed the situation.

Dark eyes stared wildly back at her.

“Ohmygod!” she cried, a blush bursting across her chest and spreading up her neck, face running hot with humiliation. “I’m so sorry! I’ll get off you!”

She tried to scramble up despite the pain blooming down her side, but the panic made her limbs awkward and limp and her chest squeezed tightly in horrified shame as she flailed and failed to right herself, stuck sideways in the tight space between the edge of the table and a warm body.

Two hands gripped at her waist. “Waverly, it's okay,” Nicole said firmly. “I've got you.”

Waverly wanted to die because suddenly Nicole Haught was scooping an arm under her knees and laying an open hand at the middle of her back to quickly maneuver her up and out of her lap.

As Waverly’s feet found stability on solid ground again, she turned to see Nicole had slipped out of the booth after her. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry, Waverly,” Kyle blustered, his own face a brilliant shade of red.

Nicole looked between the pair and amusement danced into her eyes before she returned to her booth and Waverly watched the deputy take a bite of her chicken salad, casual in her attempt to give Waverly a little semblance of normal back, considerate to pretend that the whole lap-landing thing hadn’t just happened.

Waverly glanced back at Kyle who had shoved his hands into his pockets, looking quite upset at the commotion he’d caused.

Grace, her regular waitress, stood by him with a look of concern worrying over her delicate face at Waverly’s mishap.

Waverly didn't even dare look around to see what other patrons might have noticed. She was not doing this. No way. She reached around Kyle and gently plucked the menu out of Grace’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said politely, looking at both the waitress and then Kyle. “I've found my friend.”

She sat herself in the empty seat across from Nicole.

Without a hitch, Nicole smiled up at Waverly. “Glad you could make it.” She tapped her watch. “But you’re late, so forgive me for starting without you.”

Waverly was grateful for the ease with which Nicole went along with her fib.

“Uh…” Kyle stammered, then looked away sadly. “I’ll see you around, Waverly. Have a good night.”

“Goodnight, Kyle,” Waverly returned and stared after him as he exited the diner.

The sound of Nicole chuckling brought her attention back to the deputy. She was still in uniform and she looked a little disheveled, her buttons undone more than usual, a white undershirt peeking out, and her jaw-length hair was tousled like she’d been running her hand through it all day long.

“I needed a laugh. Thanks, Waverly.”

Waverly wanted to be put out as she massaged her tender hip, but the shine in Nicole’s eyes was hard to be mad at.

“Glad my humiliation could be of benefit to someone,” she said crossly, opening her menu.

“I saw the whole thing, by the way. Poor guy. He was so eager to be close to you, next thing I see, you’re tumbling all over the place.”

“You mean tumbling all over you,” Waverly grumbled, a smile threatening to emerge.

“Ah,” Nicole said. “Your face when you realized where you had landed. If I had taken just one more second standing you up, Wynonna would be at the hospital right now trying to understand why her sister had gone into cardiac arrest.”

“Well, you fall into someone’s lap and see how well you take it.”

Nicole’s smile seemed warmer at that. “Fair enough. Well, he’s gone now. You can grab your favorite little table in the back,” Nicole said, gesturing over her shoulder.

Waverly looked at her usual spot, finding it blissfully unoccupied, then to Nicole’s face. Nothing but understanding.

“I know what it’s like to want your slice of privacy, a safe corner to be with your own thoughts. I was leaving soon as I finished this anyway,” Nicole said, pointing at her food with her fork.

Waverly closed her menu and slid out of the booth. She paused there, leaning her hip against the table.

“Thank you, Nicole. I never know how to be anything but polite.”

Nicole shrugged. “I can be brazen enough for the both of us. Enjoy your night.”

Waverly found her way to her table and Grace came by with a glass of water and to take her order.

Nicole was there for another fifteen minutes finishing off her salad before she signaled for the check.

Shortly after Grace dropped it off, Nicole stood, smoothing a hand down her rumpled shirt. She pulled her wallet out and left a few bills, then looked around, sliding the wallet back into her pants pocket. Waverly pretended to be focused on her fries but looked back up and smiled at the sight of Nicole working a messy hand through her red hair, looking in her direction.

Nicole tipped her chin up slightly, smiling in farewell and Waverly offered a wave goodbye.

The deputy walked down the middle aisle and paused at the front counter to speak with Grace for a moment. The young girl laughed at something Nicole said and then gazed affectionately after her as she exited the diner.

The waitress sighed and went to clean up Nicole’s dishes, putting away her tips with a timid smile.

Waverly wondered about that as she pushed a baby tomato around her plate, brow furrowed.

She shook off the thought, and not wanting to dwell on the strangeness of her evening, she started theorizing about the case that had come in that day.

They had two dead guys in the morgue. Dolls was going to need her at her best.

* * *

A week later and rather than a lead, they had a third dead body with the same strange bite marks. Wynonna was taking out her frustrations in a heated sparring session with Dolls.

Waverly massaged her temples. The kills all happened in different locations, but still within the triangle, which was curious. The only common factor was that all three men were married with children. So far, there just wasn’t much else to go on.

Waverly kept reading through the police reports, looking for anything they may have missed when a knock sounded on the BBD office door.

Waverly sat up and Wynonna and Dolls froze with their fists in the air.

They straightened up, Dolls grabbing a towel to wipe the sweat off his neck and forehead. “Come in,” he called.

Nicole entered and Wynonna’s bad mood seemed to lift a little. “Haught, what brings you to my side of the kingdom?”

“So, this mystery case of yours has been causing some real upset. People are getting antsy about good family men being targeted and worried wives have been in and out of the station all yesterday and today asking the Sheriff for protective details that we just don’t have the manpower to provide.”

Dolls bristled. “Officer Haught, pacifying the townspeople is your job, my job is to find the bastard committing these crimes, so unless –”

Nicole put a hand up. “I’ll get to the point then, Deputy Marshal.” She looked over at Wynonna. “You’re always telling me to call you for the weird stuff, so here goes. I took it upon myself to do a follow up interview with the widows of the three victims, figured fresh eyes and ears might pick up on something. I don’t know if it’s anything, but during my interview with Karen Foley, I noticed something about her that I had seen in my interview with Janet Henley. After my interview with the third widow, Allison Garcia, it confirmed an odd physical detail about all three women. I had to revisit them to take pictures, but here, take a look at their hair.”

Nicole went to Wynonna and they scrolled through the pictures on her phone together.

Too curious to remain in her seat, Waverly joined them, standing by Nicole’s side to look at the first photo. Nicole lowered the phone so Waverly could get a good look and then she zoomed into the first widow’s hair. “Look, the left side of her hair, there’s a random cut that makes that lock of hair shorter than the rest.” Nicole then scrolled to the next photo and zoomed in on the same spot. “Again, same random cut.” She scrolled to the third. “And again. Her hair was snipped there as well.”

“So what’s that supposed to mean?” Wynonna asked, looking lost.

Nicole handed her phone to Waverly as she was already taking the liberty to scroll back and forth through the three photos.

“I’m just saying, you’re probably looking for a connection between the three men because you’re operating on the basis that they’re the targets. But what if –”

“The wives are the actual targets!” Waverly blurted. “Someone is turning women into widows only to steal locks of their hair. It’s something!” Waverly handed off the phone to Nicole so she could rush over to her open laptop. “I couldn’t figure out why someone would be after family men, but the obsession with widowed women and the power of their pain, that’s big in the occult!”

Nicole’s brow raised. “The occult.”

Waverly nodded, googling away. “Yes, if this theory holds any water, then –”

Dolls’ face filled with interest as he cut in. “Then it’s possible we’re looking for someone who practices the dark arts. That gives us a place to start.”

“The dark arts,” Nicole said. 

Wynonna’s grin was soft. “Thanks, Haught, you really came through.”

The deputy shrugged. “Just couldn’t stand to see you mope anymore, Earp.”

Waverly watched the easy camaraderie between them as Nicole slipped her phone back into her pocket. “I’ll text you the photos and go tell Nedley you all have a lead. Maybe it’ll help us calm some people down.”

She turned for the door.

“Hey, Officer Haught?” Dolls called out.

“Hm?” Nicole looked over a shoulder as her hand wrapped around the knob.

“Your assertiveness in aiding this case is appreciated.”

She laughed softly and pulled the door open. “You’re welcome,” she said, shutting it behind her.

“Man,” Wynonna said. “I told you to let me bring Haught into the fold. You show her a sad face and she could solve the Kennedy murder.”

“Aw,” Waverly murmured. “You watched the JFK documentary.”

Wynonna went to Waverly’s side, rubbing her arm as she observed her little sister engaged in her favorite activity: Research. “I like to surprise you sometimes, babygirl.”

A beat later. “Also, Nicole made me. She’s as into that crap as you are.”

Waverly didn’t know what made her say it. “Maybe I should be spending more time with Nicole then.”

The hand on her arm froze, then started up again, enough for Waverly to notice.

She caught the thoughtful expression on Wynonna’s face in the reflection of her laptop screen.

“Yeah, maybe you should be.”

* * *

As the day came to a close and Dolls dismissed her and Wynonna shortly after six pm, Waverly found herself walking through the station, distantly aware that she was heading in the direction of the women’s restroom. She had her phone out and was staring at the latest text from Stephanie.

_By the way, you’re not going to mention the other night to Tommy, are you? I was drunk, obviously. - Steph_

Waverly stuffed the phone in the pocket of her blazer. Later, she thought. She would answer it later.

She pushed the door open and her heart lurched at the sight of Nicole jerking back at the suddenness of her coming into the restroom.

“Hey, Waves! Sorry, here.” Nicole pulled the door further open and stepped back to give Waverly space to enter. Nicole glanced at her watch. “Done for the night?” she asked.

Waverly adjusted her purse higher up on her shoulder, smiling at Nicole as she walked past her to the lineup of sinks to get a good look of herself in one of the bathroom mirrors, pushing back some of her hair that had fallen out of its ponytail. “I am, thanks to you I found another lead. Dolls and Wynonna are going on a stakeout later tonight, but I’m not allowed to tag along since I’m only the research.”

Nicole let the door fall shut. She stayed where she was, folding her arms over her chest, one tan tactical boot crossing over the other. She leaned there against the wall adjacent to the hand dryers. “Don’t say it like that, Waverly. You’re not just anything.”

Waverly pulled the elastic band from her hair, smoothing through the long waves of it, shaking it out nicely and letting the stiffness of her body loosen in time with it. Sitting in an office chair for over eight hours was no joke. She’d have to keep up with her yoga sessions and daily stretches to avoid a lifetime of lower back pain.

She unbuttoned her jacket and checked the neatness of the tuck on her patterned blouse and thought she looked much cuter in her blazer and jean ensembles when her hair was down, but it wasn’t practical while she was working, always sliding into her face and getting in the way.

She glanced over at Nicole, the nice words finally resonating, and she found herself unsurprised, but pleasantly so. Nicole was always nice to her. Wouldn’t even hear of Waverly hinting at anything less.

But Waverly was used to sweet words from pretty much everyone around her. She knew she was one of the most beautiful girls in Purgatory. Had been chased after since she first put on a cheerleading outfit to support the Blue Devils at the local High School. Even when people gossiped about her family in whispers, the things said about her could be flattering, if only they didn’t curse Wynonna’s name in the same breath.

She smiled a little falsely because that’s what she always did when she received a compliment. “Thanks, Nicole. What about you? Is your shift over yet?”

Maybe they would see each other again at Mama Olive’s.

Nicole shook her head. “Pulling a double shift tonight. Favor to good ol' Lonnie. His parents decided to fly in for a visit unexpectedly and his wife is withering away with anxiety from being left alone with them.”

Waverly laughed at that. “Oh no, alone in a house with only her in-laws. Poor thing.”

Nicole grinned. "Yep, and for the record, I’m not doing this shift for Lonnie. His wife is a sweetheart. Has to be to marry that guy, let's be honest, so really, I’m doing it for her.”

Waverly rolled her eyes, turning to face Nicole. “I have a feeling you do a lot of things for the ladies.”

Nicole’s eyes widened, expression frozen for a moment at the statement, then slowly, a smile Waverly had never been on the receiving end of erupted over her usually serious face, unleashing dimples and tugging charmed brightness into the browns of her eyes.

Nicole straightened, hands falling at her sides. “Waverly Earp, is that the first gay joke you’ve made about me since we’ve known each other?” Waverly found herself giggling at the disbelief that had etched its way onto the deputy’s face. “Damn. Wanna call me out any harder?"

Waving a hand in front of her face in between an unexpected fit of giggles, Waverly shook her head. “No, I’m sorry! That’s all for today, I promise!”

“Don't be sorry,” Nicole murmured on a breathy laugh. “I liked it.”

Waverly’s own laughter petered out and the look in Nicole’s eyes, soft and humored, made her grip the edge of the sink to calm down. “Me too,” she said. “You’re really nice, Nicole.”

The deputy reached for the door handle. “I stand by what I said. You’re not just the research. Else you wouldn’t be on their team.” Pulling it open, Nicole pointed in the general direction of the outside world. “Anyway, I gotta head out on patrol. You have a nice night, yeah?”

“I will,” Waverly said back. “You’ll be safe?”

Nicole paused and seemed to take a moment with that question, studying Waverly’s face. “I always try to be.”

Waverly nodded in response. “Well, good evening then.”

“It’s shaping up that way.” Nicole winked and disappeared out the door and down the hall.

Waverly slumped against the sink, purse hanging low in her hands. “I suppose it is." She looked around the empty restroom and moved towards a stall.

She cheered up at the thought of going home and making herself some noodles and a spicy mushroom stir-fry for dinner. Maybe even a glass of wine. She forgot all about the numerous texts still needing to be answered on her cell phone. In fact, that phone would be forgotten in the pocket of her blazer until the next morning. Waverly would spend the remainder of her night sitting up in her room, trying to read but finding herself in absolute hysterics over what she’d said to Nicole and the reaction she'd caused in the deputy.

“What the hell,” Waverly whispered hours later into her pillow.


	3. Chapter 3

Waverly woke up to the sound of her alarm at five am. She was good about getting herself out of bed, even after nights she hadn’t slept all that well. There was an energy and promise of peace that no other time of day held for her.

She freshened up, then worked herself into a sheen of warm dripping sweat with an hour of yoga and resistance training by the foot of her bed. She had learned young that being flexible and unexpectedly strong was advantageous to side-stepping overeager boys with nauseating intentions.

She finished with some deep, intense stretches, the depth of exertion satisfying her in the early mornings as she strained her body, building lumbar and core strength. She rolled up her mat and stowed it away in the closet along with her resistance bands and exercise ball.

She wondered about Wynonna and searched around for her cell phone, panicking when it wasn’t in her purse, then rifling through the pockets of the clothes she wore the day before, finding the device in her jacket. She sighed in relief. She’d never get used to how easily she seemed to forget the last place she’d left her phone. She unlocked it to find a bunch of new texts.

_Please call me back. I miss you, babe. – Champ_

_Stephanie asked me to ask if you’re coming to the fitting. I don’t blame you for being mad. Stephy fucked up. – Chrissy_

_Hey, lovey! Steph asked me to make sure we see you for the Bridesmaid’s fitting. Wanna catch a ride to the city with me and Rach? Reply soon! Xoxo – Sonya_

Ignoring the rest, Waverly scrolled to the most recent one.

 _Stakeout was a miss. Gonna go again tonight. Off to sleep.  
_ _P.S. This lone wolf could really use a hug. I think we die without our pack. – Wynonna_

Waverly left her phone on her dresser and walked down the hallway, opening the door to Wynonna’s room. Her sister was faceplanted in bed still in her jeans, leather jacket draped over her shoulders like the world’s tiniest blanket. At least she’d managed to kick off her boots this time.

Waverly knew how lucky she was to have this back. She went many years without safety or stability, confronted with the aching loss of all emotional security in one fell swoop after another until it started to feel like life was just a series of bad things over and over again. It could be that way for a child with no say, no choice, no control.

Uncle Curtis and Aunt Gus came close to recreating a semblance of normal; family dinners were healthy and doting, but with just the three of them, it had always remained a touch too quiet for her to fully live in their space and their love.

If Waverly really thought about it, despite being younger, sometimes she felt the older of the two, a sensation that warred within her as she moved into her elder sister’s room and lifted the leather jacket off her to switch it out for a proper blanket. She unfolded it, covering Wynonna and climbing in to spoon her sister for a while.

She propped the side of her head up in her open hand and stared at the fading wallpaper, brushing up and down her sister’s arm. Waverly had discovered soon after Wynonna returned to Purgatory that it was some kind of healing to take the time to coddle the ones you loved.

Wynonna turned under her arm and into her chest, like a little girl in need of clinging and Waverly understood what motherhood felt like. It felt like this, a needy heart searching for you its whole life. Sometimes you could hold that heart close and keep it warm and safe.

Or you could neglect it, let it sit outside, let it wander off, always yours, always, but never under your care.

Waverly had been that little heart sitting outside wanting to come back in for so long. 

“God, it’s good to be home,” she whispered, tears stinging her eyes.

Wynonna was her big sister all over again, shifting up and pulling her close, guiding her head into the crook of her shoulder and lifting her slightly off the bed with how tightly she hugged her.

“The only decent thing I’ve done in my life is come back home, babygirl. I’m never leaving again. You won’t get rid of me.” There was a little viciousness to the promise, as though directed at a specific thing or person, but Waverly would never know much about that.

She would just inhale the comfort of leather and cinnamon, whiskey and gunmetal and squeeze her sister that much tighter. “Good,” she said with a fire of her own. That’s what her sister was becoming every day she was here, facing her demons. “ _Good_.”

* * *

It looked like Waverly had a demon of her own to face. Stephanie Jones had come to the Sheriff’s department looking for her the next day.

A small town could be a sardine tin.

“We need to talk,” she said coldly, breezing past Waverly towards the Sheriff’s office. Waverly trailed after her, disappointed that this had been bound to happen. Stephanie was not someone who let things get away from her.

Randy Nedley looked between the two girls, having known them their whole lives from the many sleepovers hosted in his home by Chrissy.

Gruffly, he pushed himself up from his chair and relinquished the office to them, knowing better than to resist. Some things just weren’t worth the headache. As he pulled the door behind him, he offered Waverly a firm nod, a reminder to stand her ground even if he didn’t know what exactly she was standing against. Waverly stared after the warm man like she was the same twelve-year old that Stephanie jerked around to fit her will. Nedley had been the source of many hugs and a few stilted talks about not letting other people tell you who you were.

Waverly perched herself at the edge of the old couch in his office while Stephanie prowled the small open space, back and forth for a time. Then she went to Waverly, sitting with her and taking her hands.

“I know, Wavey. I know Champ messed with your head and your heart. Stepping out on you over and over again behind your back, embarrassing you, but what happened here was different. It’s not the same. I made one mistake and I was really drunk, and honestly, you couldn’t understand, marriage is terrifying, especially the second time around. And Tommy finally proposed after so long, please tell me you won’t play a part in me losing my fiancé.”

“Steph…I don’t know what you want me to say, can you give me some time with all this?”

“Time to what? Consider if you want to blow my life up or not? Time to consider if you’re gonna be my friend or not?”

Waverly shrank back, pulling at her hands, but unable to fully get out from Stephanie’s tight grasp. “I won’t say anything to Tommy,” she conceded.

“And?” Stephanie pressed.

“And what?” Waverly snapped, rising and tugging her hands harder to break the hold. She crossed her arms over her chest like she could physically protect herself from Stephanie’s narrowed gaze.

“And will you stop sulking and hiding from your friends and come dress shopping? I need my best girl by my side on my big day.”

“I – Steph, I don’t think I can come to your wedding.”

“Oh, there it is,” Stephanie fired off, getting up and walking away from her before turning back. “I always looked out for you! When everyone whispered behind your back, I stood up for you, even after all the insanity Wynonna pulled, and God, she did such a number on you and you can’t even see it. She comes back into town and you’re suddenly under her shadow all over again. Don’t you remember how hard I pushed to get you to be a person? Making you join the cheer squad, persuading you to finally date the most popular guy in town, hours talking you up on the phone to enroll in pageants with me. I didn’t have to do that, but you’re such a naïve little sweetheart, and you needed cajoling out of your shell all the time, and I wasn’t even bothered to do it ‘cause I love you, Wavey! Always have, and I know you don’t always like the direction I’m pushing you in, but you can’t say I’ve had bad intentions towards you, can you? Even if I’m tough, I just needed to make you tougher, too. You can’t let your psycho family fuck up your life again. All of us are worried about you, and you’re just being selfish. It’s my wedding and I’m stressed all the time, and you’re making me do this with you? Really? Right now? Over one dumb mistake? Grow up, Waverly! You’re not the only one struggling, you know!”

Waverly held herself tighter, the anger directed at her slamming into her chest over and over like a tidal wave. She had so much she wanted to say, but the words couldn’t break past the lump bruising there in her throat. Stephanie always managed to make it make sense even if Waverly knew it really didn’t. There was some truth in all that sweet-edged vitriol that utterly gutted her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, looking ashamed. “You’re right. God,” Waverly muttered. “You’re right. It’s your wedding, I’m sorry.” She looked up at Stephanie and retook her hands in hers. “I should be supporting you. After everything, I should be there for you. Of course I’ll come dress shopping. Of course I will, Stephy.”

“Thank god,” Stephanie exhaled, pulling Waverly into her arms for a hug. “I disinvited Champ just for you. See. I always have your back.”

Waverly sighed and let herself melt into the embrace. It felt a little like sinking under the surface of the earth, but she wasn’t sure how to break back through. “Thank you,” she said instead of all the other things she should have.

“And I’m so proud of you,” Stephanie added, holding her at arm’s length and looking her over. “You’re doing so well, even if it’s here,” she said, looking around grimly at Nedley’s office. “But you always wanted to use that big brain of yours and here you are.”

Here she was.

* * *

Shortly after Stephanie left the station, Waverly absently brushed her hands over her thighs and arms like she was wiping the confrontation off of herself.

She exited the office to meet with the sight of Nicole standing at the reception desk, right hand in her pocket as she leaned there, looking fresh in uniform and accepting a bag of pastries from Officer Lonnie.

“Claire made ‘em piping hot just for you this morning, a thank you for taking my shift the other night,” he said as he looked up at the other deputy with startling admiration.

“Christ,” Nicole whispered, dropping her face into the open paper bag and inhaling. “If she’s ever looking for a wife, I’m right here.”

Lonnie clucked his tongue. “Well, now you’re never getting another invite home. She already likes you more than me, I can’t risk it.”

“Lonnie, your future kids are gonna like me better than you,” Nicole said, playful as she bit into one of the pastries. “Oh hell,” she groaned into it. “I’ll take any shift you need, pal.”

Waverly found herself drawn towards the easiness of their interaction, edging up to the side of the reception desk, resting her elbow on the wood and bracing her chin in her palm, breathing it all in.

Nicole’s eyes fluttered open, mouth pausing midchew as Waverly’s presence dawned on her. She ate a little slower, swallowing visibly and dropping the partially eaten pastry back down the bag. If the aroma wafting in the air was anything to go by, it was some sort of savory meat pie. Nicole brushed the back of her hand self-consciously over her mouth against any stray crumbs. “Waves, hey.” Her eyes seemed to catalogue every detail of Waverly’s face and Waverly wondered what exactly Nicole saw.

“You look happy this morning,” Waverly said, looking for distraction from the fact that on Saturday she’d be in the city, away from Wynonna, away from home, even away from the way Nicole was smiling at her.

“Well, who wouldn’t be,” Nicole said, looking a little sheepish about being caught with a bagful of another woman’s pastries.

The thought came to Waverly. Silly. Silly and sweet.

“Who wouldn’t be what?” chimed in another voice, Wynonna suddenly bracing on the other side of Nicole.

Nicole tilted the bag in Wynonna's direction. “Happy that Lonnie’s lovely wife made me these.”

“Oooh.” Wynonna rubbed her hands together. “Don’t mind if I do,” she said, reaching in and grabbing a still warm pie, scarfing down half of it rather wolfishly.

“I guess these are gonna be breakfast,” Nicole said, tossing an arm around Wynonna’s neck and steering her towards the breakroom. “Let’s make coffees and start this day proper.”

Waverly stared after them, wondering what a friendship that stupid and wonderful might feel like.

Halfway across the station, Nicole suddenly steered them back around in a quick U-turn that had Wynonna’s pie flying up out of her hand. She snatched it back out of the air and anxiously shoved it into her mouth, side-eyeing her friend as she did so.

“We’ll make tea,” Nicole offered.

Wynonna perked up. “Yeah, babygirl. I brought bagels and jelly. That’s your jam, right?”

The tension in Waverly, if for just a little while, lay forgotten by her boot as she walked away from it to be picked back up another time. Another day.

For now, Wynonna took her by the sleeve as soon as she was in reach and tugged her along towards a few minutes of careless laughter, hot beverages and awfully wholesome company.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been amazing to receive kind comments and kudos on this fic. Would love to hear what ya'll think of this chapter. I enjoyed writing it. :)

Thomas Earnest was one of few men that Waverly knew to be decent through and through, if by the number of times she’d been left alone with him was anything to go by.

Most times, alone with someone is where you’d learn the secrets that they didn’t even mean to spill. The nature of their conversation, how much they chose to invade your space, and how they looked at you when you could look nowhere else.

Thomas looked rough, thick beard, buzz cut blond hair, silver cross necklace dangling down his broad chest, army-strong and handsome to boot. He’d completed his service in his early twenties and used the benefits to put himself through college. Four years later, he was back home, taking time off to figure out what he wanted to do next and that’s when he’d met Stephanie Jones again. He was three years older but had noticed her since he was a senior at Purgatory High and she was a freshman. It was her squad cheering on his team at the football games back then and nostalgia had a way of bringing people together.

He knew of her poise, her unwavering, willful nature, and it made him hesitant at the beginning.

He admitted as much once when he and Waverly sat alone in Shorty’s as she was closing up hours after he’d gone on his first date with Stephanie. He’d had his heart broken overseas and it took him two months to say yes to even dating Stephanie.

He got real drunk that night and the truth of his character came barreling to the surface when he dropped a couple coins into the rarely used jukebox taking up a corner of the bar, and he belted out Shania Twain, line dancing around the bar with his eyes closed much to Waverly’s amusement. He took shot after shot, then jumped up onto a stool, right on his knees and shouted, hand in the air, “I’m gonna do it! I’m gonna fall in love again!”

Twenty minutes later as he was drunkenly putting up chairs around the bar for Waverly, he’d started crying as a slow song came on. “My baby sister,” he’d croaked out like he’d been caught off guard by a memory, bleary grey eyes meeting Waverly’s across the bar. “She loved Shania.” His baritone voice crooned the lyrics, soulful and heart wrenching, and Waverly saw a man that a woman could lose her head over.

She had been so happy for Stephanie that night. She thought she was happy for Tommy, too. Had no clue she should have been worried for him instead.

When she’d gone to her apartment above the bar where Champ was snoring away in her bed, she’d sat at her vanity, brushing her hair and staring at him fondly. She wasn’t yet aware of his cheating, but she’d known already he was going to disappoint her in all the small sad ways.

She’d loved him despite it, but that night, she thought of Tommy walking home, swaying along in the streets, with so much music and anguish in his body, ready to take a chance on something big like love, and an expiration date for her relationship with Champ floated to the surface of her mind.

She’d kept putting it off because it took time to change course, to leave people, and she’d been left every way a person could be until she’d come to find she never much wanted to do any leaving of her own.

* * *

“Waverly!” a voice yelled as she’d hopped out of her Jeep down the street from the café she was set to be meeting Stephanie and the others at. It was almost 10 AM that Saturday and she didn’t want to be late.

She turned around as cars zipped by on the busy city streets and across the road Tommy was halfway out of his own parking space. Waverly beamed, waving at him brightly. He reversed back into the space, cut his engine, and hopped out of his truck. He looked both ways and waited for the cars to pass before jogging across the road where Waverly had moved to the safety of the sidewalk and he grabbed her in a big hug.

“Tommy,” she said happily, holding him tight. “How are you?” she asked. She hadn’t seen him since the night he proposed way back in April when he invited everyone for a barbecue on a sunny spring day at his dad’s house where he’d gotten down on one knee in the middle of all their friends and genuinely shocked Stephanie with his leap of faith.

He let go of Waverly and took a step back, shaking his head. “So happy I could dance around.” He threatened her with a little jig right there on the sidewalk, but she pushed him and he laughed heartily. “I thought the bride was supposed to be giddy, but here I am, like a little boy at cake tastings and flipping out over floral arrangements. Waverly, you would love it. Who knew flowers had so many secret meanings? I didn’t! Oh! Steph told me about your new job, good on you! I was so happy to hear it!”

“Thanks, Tommy. Were you just dropping her off then?”

“Yeah, I’m actually on my way meet some of my army buddies. We’re getting tatted up together, gonna hit a karaoke bar after, but I promise I won’t drink, I’m driving Steph back home when you girls are done picking out dresses. You’re doing brunch first, right?”

“Brunch, spa, then dresses, that’s the plan!”

He sighed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He took a deep breath. “Sometimes,” he said. “Life feels wonderful.” He was soaring without anything to tether him. Not a string in sight.

Waverly’s hands curled into fists.

Tommy’s phone vibrated in his pocket and he pulled it out to see who was texting him. “My buddies are waiting, but I’ll see you at the rehearsal, right?”

Waverly barely nodded. “Right,” she said quietly. He gave her one more quick hug and then jogged back to his truck, waving goodbye as he drove off.

Waverly climbed back into her Jeep, gripped the steering wheel and sat there for a few minutes. She almost couldn’t breathe with how angry she was, how unfair it all seemed, but she learned right then that taking a stand in life wasn’t always about screaming or yelling about how right you were, or how wrong someone else was. Perhaps it was just leaving the wrong where it was, with the person it belonged to.

She opened her glove compartment and chucked her phone inside it.

She pulled onto the road and took the next roundabout back onto the highway. She drove miles further away from home and she kept driving with her window down, wind in her hair, in a sea of all kinds of people going all kinds of places, and she passed by a river and she knew it led to the ocean and this was the direction she’d always meant to be going.

* * *

Waverly came home smelling of sea breeze and salt water after five o' clock in the evening. She had been adventurous, but she knew better than to be caught dead on unfamiliar highways after sunset if she could help it.

She felt all at once thrumming with life and full of ease as she strolled into the kitchen with a brown paper bag of wine, stuffed olives, fresh bread, and her favorite vegan cheese spread. She wanted something simple and comforting to end her day on.

She stopped dead in the entrance of the kitchen at the sight of her once elusive elder sister standing over a steaming pot with a wooden spoon in a frilly apron with Peacemaker strapped to her hip.

Wynonna looked over and grinned. “Hey, how was your fitting with the original cast of Mean Girls?”

Normally Waverly wouldn’t let a jibe like that fly. Today though, “Regina George didn't get hit by a bus just for you to throw her under another one.”

Wynonna’s mouth fell open. Then she scoffed. “Well, good for you, babygirl. Want to talk about it?”

Waverly set her groceries and purse down on the kitchen table and went up to her sister, hugging loosely around her waist as she peered into the pot of what looked like pasta shells drowning in milk. “No, I really don’t think I do.”

“Why do you smell like the outdoors, and…briny?”

“Wynonna, I got really fricking lost today,” Waverly said and she giggled like it was the best thing in the world. “I found a beach and I cried like three times trying to find my way back home and I took an exit to a rest stop because I was running out of gas, and I had to squat over a gross toilet just to pee and you know what I learned?”

“That truck stops are terrifying?”

“Yes, but also, I need to get lost more often.”

“You know,” Wynonna said, looking over her shoulder at Waverly. “There’s this cool invention called a cell phone. Tends to double as a navigation system.”

Waverly buried her face into Wynonna’s shoulder. “That’s the other thing I learned. I really dislike my cell phone sometimes.”

“Me thinks,” Wynonna said. “You just dislike the gossipy soul sucking squares on your cell phone. You could have called me. I’d have happily grand theft autoed one of Nedley’s cruisers to come get you in two quick shakes, lights, sirens and all.”

“If I ever need saving, you’re the first person I’ll call.”

“Good. Now pass me that bar of cheddar over there, time to Mary Berry this bitch.”

“You usually don’t go to this much effort for dinner,” Waverly observed, walking to the other end of the kitchen counter to pick up the cheese.

“I’m cooking for my Haught cop. The truck wouldn’t start this morning, so I bribed her to come look at it with the promise of a hot meal. She’s out back.”

Waverly handed over the block. “Let me grab the grater,” she said helpfully, bending down to look through the cabinets. She heard a suspicious plop and frowned, jumping up and running back to look into the pot.

“Wynonna!” she cried at the hunk of cheddar swimming there.

“What?” her sister asked. “Cheese melts.”

Wynonna then opened the cupboard above the stove and pulled down the Siracha sauce and began squirting quarter of the bottle in followed by what was just an unnecessarily long pour of Worcestershire sauce.

Waverly raised a hand in protest as Wynonna picked up an egg that was hidden behind the empty macaroni box, but it died on her tongue, too late to stop the horror show as Wynonna cracked it into the pot, and she shivered watching her toss in a handful of flour along with a stick of butter.

“That’s…that’s not how a roux works,” Waverly said sadly.

“She’s going to love this,” Wynonna replied gleefully.

“She’s going to arrest you,” Waverly said back. “For assaulting a police officer.” Waverly turned away. “And you’ve made me a witness.”

“Enough of your negative vibes, babygirl. Make yourself useful and give our mechanic a beer please. I left one in the freezer to get cold for her.”

Finally, something Waverly could get behind. “Good idea. Get her drunk.” Waverly nodded. "Maybe then she won’t taste anything.”

“Burr, stop being mean to me.”

Waverly laughed, retrieving the beer from the freezer, uncapping it and hopping away as Wynonna lightly kicked at her butt with her slipper-clad foot. “You made it specially for her. I’m sure she’ll love it.”

“Yeah,” Wynonna agreed. “Damn right she will.” She went back to stirring, reaching ominously for the bottle of ketchup.

Waverly couldn’t look anymore. She opened the door and stepped out.

There in her backyard, against a backdrop of the mountain range stood Nicole Haught, bent over the engine of her sister’s Ford F-150. A small messy toolbox lay by her boot and she looked to be using a wet rag to clean between parts of the engine’s innerworkings.

She was out of uniform, in a pair of jeans and a white flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up so she could work easy and this was probably only the third time Waverly had seen her in plain clothes.

“I didn’t know Sheriff’s deputies made house calls for car trouble.”

Nicole looked back, grinning and stepping away from under the hood of the truck. She dropped the rag and pulled a handkerchief out of her back pocket, wiping her hands clean.

“Hey there, didn’t know you still served cold ones, barkeep, unless that beer isn’t for me, in which case, please, please can I have it?”

Waverly held it away. “If you promise not to make Wynonna feel bad for the meal she’s about to serve you.”

Nicole’s brows raised. “She’s actually in there cooking? I thought she was gonna just give me a PB&J or something.” Nicole held her hand out and made a give it here motion. “I promise to be nice,” she said, and Waverly relinquished the bottle, watching Nicole take a long swig of the amber liquid while she patted her pants pocket to search around, finding Wynonna’s car keys and dangling them in front of Waverly as she disconnected her mouth from the lip of her beer. “Wanna start her up, see if I made any progress?”

Waverly accepted the bunch and got into the driver’s seat, pushed the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine revved to life and Nicole nodded, throwing Waverly a thumbs up signaling she could switch it off. She walked over, still sipping her beer and hung her left arm on the open door in front of Waverly.

“I didn’t do much to be honest,” she admitted. “Cars old as this one get dirty, dust and debris sometimes interfere with the connection between the battery and the spark plugs. I just cleaned it up a bit. Wouldn’t hurt to have a real mechanic look at it though. Might need to change out the spark plugs if it’s been too long.”

Waverly turned to face Nicole in the driver’s seat, hugging her knees as she peeked up at the tall figure leaning there, talking about things Waverly really didn’t know much about. Sparks and connections and change.

She rested her chin on her fist and smiled. “Where did you learn so much about cars?”

The setting sun cast a pinkish orange glow that made Nicole appear angular and picturesque, her reddish auburn hair blowing in the wind, scattering around the sides of her jaw, highlighting the soft glow of her skin as her expression turned wistful.

“My mom and dad were always leaving me with my grandparents and my gramps was a retired mechanic, but you know, you never really retire from a job like that so friends, family, neighbors were always bringing their cars over for him to work on. Paid him for it, but knew he wouldn’t take ‘em for a ride like some shop mechanics tend to. I didn’t learn much because my grams didn’t want me being out there with a bunch of strangers and old men, but I used to sit out on the steps and listen to their conversations. It’s because of them that I never looked into a Ford for myself, settled on a scrappy Toyota the first time I went shopping for a car.”

“What did they have against Fords?”

“You never heard the joke?”

“What joke?”

“Okay. What does Ford stand for?”

“I don’t know, what?”

“Fix Or Repair Daily.”

Waverly stared up at Nicole blankly.

“Or, or,” Nicole continued. “Found On Road Dead.”

Waverly burst out laughing. “Oh no! Is that really the reputation?”

“Do you know where a Ford goes?” Nicole pushed on.

Waverly giggled. “No, where?”

“Wherever they’re towed.”

“Oh my god, Nicole! Stop! Poor Wynonna, she bought it off of our Aunt Gus.”

“That sucker got sold a lemon.”

Waverly’s head fell back as she laughed, tugging one of her knees up and shaking her head.

“You mechanic folk are mean!”

“Well, I suppose a Four Old Rusted Doors Ford is still better than a Bring My Wallet BMW or a Killed In Action Kia.”

Waverly shook so uncontrollably, she leaned forward, grabbing onto the bottom of Nicole’s shirt, hand fisting into the material. Her head tipped forward against Nicole’s stomach as her body wracked with silent laughter.

Silly happy messy tears burned down her cheeks. When was the last time she laughed like this?

“Oh god, Nicole,” she said, trying to get a hold of herself, looking back up to see Nicole grinning down at her. “I think I need more of you in my life."

Nicole’s eyes brightened. “I agree.”

Waverly couldn't stop herself. She wrapped her arms around Nicole’s narrow waist, resting her cheek there and relishing the rough slide of flannel against the softness of her skin.

Nicole cupped her shoulder and rubbed across her upper back as if she could tell Waverly was in need of some soothing.

Had been for so long.

* * *

True to her word, when Nicole sat at the kitchen table and Wynonna set down a bowl of macaroni and cheese in front of her, staring at her eagerly, Nicole just smiled, picked up her spoon and with no hesitation at all, ate a generous mouthful.

Waverly had sat herself across the table and cradled her face in her hands, wincing when Nicole began to chew a little slower, the loud crunch unmissable. 

Nicole swallowed with some difficulty and looked up at Wynonna. “Oh wow. Never eaten anything like this before. Such an interesting take on mac and cheese.”

She then impressed Waverly by willingly taking a second bite. “Mhm. Mhm.” Nicole nodded. “Bold flavors.” She did a full body shiver. “Whew. The spice is really kicking in. Is that,” she asked, eye twitching, “Vinegar, I taste?”

“Good palate, Haught! And yes, it's balsamic,” Wynonna filled in. “I also added honey. You know, to balance out the acidity."

“Mm, impressive, that acidity, so balanced.” Nicole smiled up at Waverly and continued to eat, and boy, did Nicole Haught ever keep her promises. Even a dumb one.

Waverly felt bad, nibbling away at her slice of toasted bread slathered in cashew cheese and sipping sweet wine. But Wynonna was so happy, fist-pumping and going off to clean up the mess she had made. It was some kind of miracle that just as Wynonna went to take a taste of her rancid concoction, Dolls called her needing to meet ASAP.

“Well, well, well, looks like those evil sons of bitches are lookin' to make their peace tonight and I'm lookin' to deliver it,” Wynonna said, whipping off her apron and ducking into her leather jacket, kissing the top of Waverly’s head on her way out with a high-five to Nicole. “Save your badass homemaker some grub!”

“Unlikely I won't just eat it all!” Nicole warned.

The door slammed shut and left Waverly and Nicole sitting there together. Nicole raised another spoonful to her mouth and Waverly lunged to knock it out of her hand. “Stop that already! You’re gonna be so sick, Nicole!” She ran to get a glass of water and put on a kettle for tea. She took the bowl away and dumped it back into the pot to be thrown out later before Wynonna came back home.

“Hey, I was promised a home cooked meal. I’m gonna eat it if it’s the last thing I do.”

“It might be.”

Nicole got up, laughing as she moved closer with the glass of water offered to her. She downed all of it, pulling a sour face and patting her own stomach pityingly. She set the glass on the counter next to Waverly’s hand, then nodded in the direction of the door. “I guess I should grab my tools and head home.”

"Uh, yeah,” Waverly agreed. “But um.” She looked over at her own plate. “You’re right, you were promised a home cooked meal. If you’re not in a rush, maybe I can make you something.”

“Oh,” Nicole said. “Well, if you’re sure." The corner of her mouth curved up. "Then I’m in no rush at all.”

Waverly took her time, feeling a warm gaze on her back as she moved through her kitchen and the warmth only increased when Nicole stepped up behind her and offered to help.

Waverly needed all the help she could get.


	5. Chapter 5

There were two restrooms in the Sheriff’s Department, one for staff and another located in the front of the building for public use. Naturally, the staff restrooms were kept nicer, were less used and offered much more privacy. But Waverly had spilled her vanilla almond latte on her hand while driving to work and could still feel the sticky sweet syrup in between two of her fingers. It was a small annoyance, but she didn’t think twice about ducking into the first bathroom on her way into the building, which led to the unexpected situation.

In an elegant pink dress and pointed high heeled shoes, an achingly sophisticated woman who most definitely did not belong to Purgatory was standing in front of the mirror having a breakdown.

“Oh god,” she whispered to herself, shifting when Waverly walked in, but she didn’t attempt to hide herself any further. “Don’t mind me, I’m just having a bit of a life thing at the moment.”

Waverly let out a hum and braved going to stand by the woman, washing her hands. She’d worked behind a bar for years, emotional strangers were nothing to be wary of, even if they did make her heart squeeze in her chest.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Waverly said. Drying her hands, she grabbed an extra tissue and held it out.

The woman smiled tiredly and accepted the kindness, dabbing at the running mascara under her eyes. “You’re careful to buy waterproof makeup and then learn at the worst possible moment that it doesn’t even hold up. Don’t you just hate false advertising? Downright reeks of sexism to me.”

Waverly chuckled and set her purse down, rooting through it for her own mascara. “I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve been crying a lot myself lately, here, this one’s tried and true.”

The woman’s brown eyes softened. “Oh, you’re nice,” she said. “Is everyone in a small town so nice?” she asked, accepting the tube, looking over the label.

“Not really,” Waverly admitted. “Probably why I’ve been able to test that one so well.” She felt a strange kinship with the woman. " I was voted the nicest person in Purgatory though. They even gave me a sash.”

“Impressive. Well, I’m very grateful the nicest girl walked in on me then." The woman turned to look at Waverly more fully, holding out her hand. “I’m Shae."

Accepting it, she replied with a simple, "Waverly." 

“That’s such a beautiful name. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like it before.”

“You must be from out of town then.”

“So far from out of town,” Shae agreed, laughing. “I actually took a plane, attended back-to-back medical conferences, then on a whim, rented a car and drove three hours to get here. I should probably sleep, but I’m kind of on a mission and I have another conference in,” she glanced at her wristwatch, “Oh, ten hours.”

“A mission?”

She laid her hand on a leather briefcase propped up against the wall at the end of the sink. A large yellow manila envelope was sticking out of it. She tugged it up a little further. “Delivering the finalized divorce papers to my ex. My lawyer faxed them to my hotel yesterday evening. I was planning to just sign them and send them off in the mail, but when I realized how close by I was, I don’t know what happened, I just went on autopilot and here I am.”

“Wow,” Waverly said, looking at herself in the mirror, imagining Shae’s journey. “That’s a lot for one day.”

“I know, but it’s the end of a chapter for me. I suppose I wanted a proper goodbye from the only person in my life who’s treated me right.” Shae suddenly turned and looked Waverly in the eye. “Have you ever met someone like that, who left a mark on your life? Just came into it out of nowhere and reached in, messed around and changed you at your core?”

Waverly stared back, wide-eyed. “I…”

“I’m sorry,” Shae said, turning back to the mirror and continuing to dab at her eyes. “Look at me, spilling my soul to a veritable stranger. You must think I’m such a fool.”

That was the last thing she thought. Waverly reached out, resting her hand on the other woman’s arm. “Not at all. Like you said, you’re just having a life thing.”

Shae sighed. “It’s going to be a day.”

Curiously, Waverly squeezed her arm and Shae looked at her in question. “If you don’t mind me asking, if your ex made such a difference in your life –”

“Why the divorce?” Shae guessed.

Waverly nodded, dropping her hand.

“We weren’t cut out to be together in the end. We met at the hospital I work at, saw each other a few times, my ex was a cop, got injured a little too often for my taste, I’d say, but I’m a doctor, you know, always there to play the healer. We dated for maybe a month, then I’d had my heart broken from an unexpected falling out with my family, and we decided to shirk responsibility, run off for a weekend in Vegas, live life. Can you imagine?” Shae asked, shaking her own head in disbelief, smiling like she was back there, in the moment, in a memory.

“We were drunk on freedom and by the end of it so drunk in general that we got married in a shoddy little chapel. Gosh, I still look at those pictures and think it was the dumbest happiest day of my life. But of course, reality sank in and we started to realize we were kidding ourselves. We barely had time to be together once our jobs picked up and we wanted such different things out of life, out of each other.” Shae blinked like she was trying to fight off the tears, but they dripped steadily anyway. “Eventually, we were able to sit down and really talk about it. That discussion was the most honest and painful conversation I’ve ever shared with another person and my heart still aches to this day to remember it. Even when you know you’re not meant to be with someone, it can still just gut you all the same.”

The emotions spilled through Shae and right into Waverly. To walk away from something genuine and meaningful for the better of one's self. She hadn't thought of a thing like that. Didn't realize people had to leave good things as much as they left bad ones. 

“If it’s okay, I’d like to give you a hug.”

“Am I not bawling enough for you?”

Waverly laughed, her own throat closing up in sympathy. “You can keep the waterproof mascara.”

Shae turned to her easily, her slender frame folding into Waverly’s arms heavily and fully, the way someone hugs when they’re so exhausted they’d comfortably sink into the closest solid thing.

“I’m sure your ex is going to be happy to see you. He sounds like a wonderful person.”

Shae pulled back, perfectly sculpted eyebrows raising alarmingly high.

“Men are the worst,” she said quite flatly, and Waverly burst out laughing, not expecting that as they stepped back from one another.

“Most of them, yeah. But yours sounds good.”

“Yes, and there’s a reason for that.” At Waverly’s lost expression, Shae shook her head. “Nothing," she said softly. "Small towns, I suppose.”

Waverly’s phone buzzed in her purse and she pulled it out to see it was just a notification alarm. She had a meeting with the Deputy Marshal to present research and still had to set up her PowerPoint.

“Sorry, it’s work.” Waverly smiled up at Shae. “I hope you’ll be okay.”

“I will be. You’ve been an angel. Thank you. Really, it was nice to get some of it out beforehand.”

“Of course, and please take care of yourself,” Waverly said because she felt it was an important thing to will into the world for the other woman.

Shae nodded like she understood the sentiment. Then, “Wait.” She reached into her briefcase and pulled out a thin white bakery box. “Since you’ve been so lovely, could I offer you a lemon scone? I bought them at this fancy bakery with really great reviews before I drove up here.”

“Oh, I really couldn’t, but that’s very generous, thank you.”

“I see. I’m not much a fan of scones, but –”

“Your ex is?” Waverly guessed.

“Exactly. Well, you take care too, Waverly.”

* * *

Forty minutes later, Waverly was leaving her meeting with Dolls, heading to the breakroom for something to drink. She slowed to a stop when she passed by Nicole at her desk.

She kept herself slightly out of view as the scene washed over her. The woman from the restroom, Shae, that sweet, elegant, gorgeous lady doctor, was sitting there, perched on the desk in front of Nicole, one leg crossed over the other. The pastry box was open next to her, not a scone left in sight, and from where Waverly stood, while she could only see Shae from behind, she had a clear view of Nicole gazing up affectionately at the woman.

Shae reached down, dusting away what must have been a crumb off of Nicole’s shirt collar and the deputy took Shae’s hand in both of her own, cradling it with a gentleness that tugged at Waverly’s gut.

A sudden surge of embarrassment swept through Waverly. She must have seemed so small-minded, assuming Shae was talking about a guy, as if a pretty, feminine woman like that couldn’t be interested in other women. She dropped her head into her hand. So stupid.

But the longer she stood there, the more it made sense as she watched the pair, and the more her conversation with Shae replayed in her mind, the more she thought, good for them, they looked like a couple would, no different at all. Intimate, adoring, soft, beautiful.

It struck her a little painfully to remember the state she had found Shae in and the reason Shae was here at all.

Waverly crossed her arms and slunk further away from her spot just out of sight when Nicole stood up and Shae slipped down off her desk. They embraced one another tightly.

As Nicole gripped her radio and said something into it, Shae busied herself with her briefcase, removing the yellow envelope and setting it down with a measure of care on Nicole’s desk. They walked out of the office together towards the hall and Waverly slipped away in haste into an empty corridor just to the left as they emerged.

“There’s no way you can drive like this, Shae,” she heard Nicole saying. “I live close by. You’re following me home and sleeping in my guest room for at least four hours. You’ll still have plenty of time to make it to your conference by five. I called in my break so I have enough time to feed you and bed you.”

“Bed me? Bold of you to assume.”

Nicole’s laughter could be heard farther and farther down the hall. “Hush, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know, Nicole." A moment later. "I always liked that about you.”

They disappeared out the front entrance, the entire station going still and quiet.

Waverly made her way into the breakroom, a little bit adrift as she poured herself a cup coffee.

Wynonna did an abrupt about turn when she walked past her little sister minutes later to see her with the unusual beverage. 

* * *

Randy Nedley looked up from his computer at the knock on his already open door. He rubbed his eyes and waved Waverly in.

“Hey, Sheriff, Deputy Marshall Dolls sent me to collect some files for the case we’re working on.”

Shuffling through the authorization forms she brought with her as she walked in, she handed them over.

Nedley skimmed them, taking a sip of lukewarm coffee out of his mug. “These are cold cases. From 1981 to 84. That means hard copy." He scrubbed a hand under his scraggly chin. "You’ll find those down in Archives.”

“I’m guessing I can’t just walk in there.”

Nedley shook his head. He glanced at the clock. “No one is allowed into Archives without supervision from me or one of my deputies, important to maintain chain of custody and all.”

“Of course,” Waverly said agreeably. She was eager to get to her information but knew Nedley preferred to delegate menial tasks.

“I have Officer Haught logging evidence down there. Take the elevator by our back stairwell to the basement level, I’ll radio Haught to take you through.”

“Thanks, Sheriff Nedley.”

As she was leaving, “Proud of you, kiddo,” she heard.

She turned back, frowning. “For what?”

His harsh face softened, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Chrissy can be a real gossip with her old man.” He picked up his mug, raising it in Waverly’s direction. “Tommy is a good kid, don’t deserve it. And these things have a way of sorting themselves out, you know. But it takes decent folk to start raising those questions.”

Waverly took a few steps back towards the Sheriff. “Sir…you’re the one who arrested Champ that night for public indecency. Did you do that for me?”

The Sheriff looked remorseful. “Hated to make it so public on ya. But I’d caught him twice in the back of his truck already, thought I was doin’ you a favor by letting it go. I kept warning him, got real serious about it, too, but the third time, I just thought, this boy’s never gonna change. Figured you ought to know. For better or worse.”

Waverly let that sink in and then walked around his desk. He stood up just in time for Waverly to throw her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Mister Nedley.”

He patted her back, voice gruff at hearing her call him that after all these years. “Just sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

She shook her head. “But you did. Sooner than anyone else. So thank you,” she whispered more forcefully.

He hugged back. “Just don't be dating any more knuckleheads. My blood pressure was rising with that one.”

Waverly laughed into his shoulder. "Small town, limited options." 

"Let me be the first to tell you, this town is gettin' bigger every day."

* * *

The elevator doors slid open and down the dimly lit hallway Nicole could be seen exiting the storage room that housed evidence and personal property. She was locking up as Waverly approached.

The deputy smiled over at her. “Hey, Waves. Nedley said you’d be coming my way.” She tilted her head to the left for them to walk further down. Nicole flipped through the keys on her bunch, squinting before she got to the right one and unlocked the Archive Room, pushing and holding it open for Waverly to walk through. She flicked the light switch on and a couple of off-white fluorescent bulbs illuminated the drafty space.

It smelled of stale paper and dust. There were sprawling stretches of shelves built into the opposite wall packed with old case files and a bunch of metal cabinets had been added more recently to hold hard copies of newer case files that had already been digitized. There were no windows in the room, causing it to feel stuffy and claustrophobic. A rickety wooden ladder slanted into a bare wall and there was one sparse desk with a lamp in the corner.

“It’s sorted by year first, then alphabetically by surname. Want some help?” the deputy asked, shutting the door behind them. Waverly heard the lock flip shut.

“Department-issued protocol to keep these doors secure at all times,” Nicole supplied. “We like to think we’re Fort Knox over here.”

Waverly folded her hands together as her eyes roved over the shelves. “If you don’t mind, I’d love to familiarize myself with the layout. I have a feeling I’ll be spending a lot of time down here.”

Wynonna hated windowless rooms and Dolls hated fetching files back and forth. It’d probably fall under Waverly’s responsibilities and she was fine with that.

“Sure, beats logging evidence.” Nicole went over to the cramped desk, pulled out the lone chair and sat herself down. “Take your time.”

As Waverly searched through reports, pausing here and there to browse notes and headlines, it was mostly quiet save for the sound of static voices crackling over Nicole’s radio. Sometimes Waverly could make out Lonnie or Susan or the dispatcher, other times it was an officer Waverly didn’t recognize and Nicole responded sparingly, eventually turning her volume lower.

The reports from 1981 and 82 were an easy find, but it became clear that 83 and 84 were higher up and going to require the ladder.

Waverly looked over her shoulder and then turned around completely.

The deputy was lazing away in the office chair, long legs kicked out in front of her, crossed at the ankles. Her fingers interlaced over her stomach and her head was tipped back. She seemed lost in thought over there, gazing up at the ceiling.

Nicole was quieter than usual, Waverly realized, more withdrawn and now that Waverly was paying attention, it seemed to seep out of Nicole and into the room.

Waverly set the files she collected down on one of the metal cabinets and went over, pushing the side of the chair so the deputy spun around. Nicole chuckled, grabbing the armrests and pressing her feet flat on the ground to stop the chair. She rolled herself out of Waverly's reach.

“Hey now,” she said.

“Don’t hey now me. I can hear you thinking, it’s interrupting my thinking.”

Nicole’s expression turned uneasy, brow furrowing. “Sorry, it’s been a weird day for me, Waves.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I hugged your wife in the bathroom.”

Nicole stared at Waverly in disbelief. “What?”

“She’s really nice.”

“Waverly.”

“Do you need a hug, too?”

After a moment, Nicole covered her mouth and began to laugh.

“Okay, good, you work on feeling better and I’ll work on hurrying up here.”

Waverly moved to grab the wooden ladder and leaned it against the shelf. She climbed up the first rung and froze at the way it wobbled. She looked down, then up.

“I’ve got it,” Nicole offered, coming over and holding the sides steady.

Waverly smiled her appreciation and climbed up two more rungs until she was high enough to flip through the folders with relative ease. It took her a couple minutes, but she found the ones she needed. Waverly stepped back down the two rungs, and looking over her shoulder, she found herself at eye-level with the deputy.

Nicole was openly studying her face, mere inches away and the proximity allowed Waverly's nostrils to fill with scents of vanilla, caffeine and fresh laundry.

Breathing it all in, she found her footing on the ground and turned into the enclosure of the deputy’s arms. Clutching the files to her chest, Waverly's muscles locked up and her gut tensed so tightly she nearly flinched.

Nicole’s hands dropped from the side rails. “I’ll have to log those for you if you want to take them out of here.”

She walked off and dug a spiral book from the top desk drawer, waving her hand for the files so she could record which ones were leaving the Archive Room. After she was done, she handed the files back. “All good. You can return those to me when you’re ready. Save yourself the trip.”

A peaceful understanding drifted into Waverly. "Hm."

As Nicole sat there with her body turned towards her, twirling a pen between her fingers, Waverly stepped further in, almost between the deputy's legs, looking down into dark eyes that emanated unquestionable lightness. 

“Thanks for being so helpful, Nicole. And so patient.”

Nicole smiled, capping the pen as one of her shoulders rose and fell. “Just your everyday standard operating procedure.”

It most certainly was not, not for Waverly.

* * *

She was slogging her way through BBD paperwork the next day. There were so many rules and restrictions and the oversight was stricter than the nuns at the local church. She massaged her temples and looked around the empty office. Dolls and Wynonna were out in the field, their last update informing Waverly that they were heading into the woods and radio silence was to be expected.

Waverly decided a trip to the vending machine for a bag of pretzels wouldn’t hurt. If she had to pass by Nicole sitting at her desk to get there, then that was just the way things were.

Really, she loved pretzels. So bland and brittle and salty and they took forever to swallow and made your mouth dry as a dessert, and it’s not like Waverly would just tuck them away in her ever-growing pile of pretzels. It’s not like she had a drawer full of pretzels or anything. And if she did, that was her business and nobody else’s.

As she walked past the glass partition that allowed her a view of the deputy behind her desk, taking a call, Nicole glanced up, soft grin tugging the corner of her mouth as she noticed Waverly.

Waverly smiled back shyly and gave a tiny wave before finding herself in front of the vending machine, pulling out some presorted change from her blazer pocket to feed into the coin slot.

She hit option E6, then bent down to fish out her purchase. When she turned, she was unsurprised to see Nicole coming down the hallway towards her.

“Don’t those make you thirsty?” she asked, clasping her hands together behind her back. “That’s what, your third bag today?”

Waverly studied the packet and shrugged. “They’re the only vegan-friendly option.”

“I see.” Nicole removed her wallet and pulled out a crisp dollar bill. She pointed at the soda machine. “Well, can I buy you a soft drink then?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Hate to think of you getting dehydrated all by yourself.” Nicole inserted her dollar into the machine and hovered a finger over each button. “So which is it?”

Waverly shook her head, smiling. “I guess a ginger ale wouldn’t hurt.”

The can came tumbling down with a loud thud and Nicole swiped it up, holding the soda out to Waverly.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me,” Nicole said, trailing Waverly down the hall. “Last week you made me the best chicken quesadilla I ever had the pleasure of eating. This is nothing.”

“A quesadilla is pretty hard to mess up.”

“Hey, I didn’t watch you prepare that fresh tomato salsa and roll out a tortilla from scratch just to have you downplay how brilliant your culinary prowess is. Your quesadilla changed my life.”

Waverly rolled her eyes.

“You think I’m kidding, but no, I’ll never eat another store-bought tortilla again long as I live.”

Waverly turned in front of the deputy, freeing a hand to twist her index finger into the black spiral audio cord that ran from the radio on Nicole’s tactical belt up to the lapel speaker clipped to her left shoulder. “I hope you don’t expect me to be one of the ladies in your life constantly cooking for you, Officer Haught. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how often you get fed.”

Nicole caught the hand toying with her equipment and gently lifted it off, turning their fingers together. Waverly’s heart picked up as Nicole stepped in a little closer.

“Is that so, Miss Earp? And is there any particular reason you’re paying attention to who’s feeding me?”

Waverly sputtered. “No.” Then quieter. “Shut up.” 

Nicole tilted her head, brown eyes gazing into Waverly’s, and with the hand she’d taken hostage, she tugged Waverly further down the hall, making her laugh delightedly as Nicole lifted her hand up overhead and delicately spun her around.

Waverly could have walked that hall all day long.

“Yo, Patrick Swayze! Stop twirling my little sister!” Wynonna yelled from behind them, having just entered the station. “I’ve got fifteen minutes before Dolls kicks my ass at training again and I need you to show me how to get out of a chokehold. I’m gonna finally get my miserable mentor down on the ground, right under me, where he belongs.” Wynonna had a gleam in her eye, then she looked bewildered. “Not sexually! Obviously!” She looked around. “Do we have HR in this place?”

“Ew,” Nicole muttered as Wynonna breezed past them. Their hands slipped apart. “Did not need that image.”

“Can you really show her how to get out of a chokehold?” Waverly asked curiously.

“Sure, why don’t you join us, I can show you, too.”

Waverly’s eyes widened. “Dolls and Wynonna never let me train with them. I usually just watch.”

“Nonsense,” Nicole replied. “It's like Swayze said. Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” She winked, then turned to catch up with Wynonna, colliding with her from behind and circling an arm around her neck.

“First lesson, Earp, never show the enemy your six.”

Wynonna flailed around. “Asshole! I wasn’t ready!”

“When I’m done with you,” Nicole said smugly. “You’ll always be ready.”

“Guys,” Waverly intervened, exasperated. “At least take it to the training room.” She shook her head at them and walked past.


	6. Chapter 6

Waverly stepped out of the house and onto the porch, smelling mountain air and prairie grass. The early August morning was unreasonably humid and a summer storm was slated to be rolling through Ghost River County.

Inclement weather was par for the course around here so Waverly grabbed her white hooded jacket and folded it neatly over her arm in case she got caught in a downpour later. The weather channel predicted the first showers and heavy winds to arrive around evening.

When Waverly made it to the station, her sister was already there, having slept out the night before. She had on sunshades and was stripped down to her t-shirt, the leather jacket too much to bear with the heat.

Waverly stroked her hand through Wynonna’s long dark hair. “Is Dolls here yet?” she asked.

Wynonna groaned. “I hope not. I need a nap and a burger.”

Dolls walked in, dropping a bag in front Wynonna along with a hot cup of coffee. “Come on, Earp. Need you in top form today. We’re driving to a BBD black site.”

“What, no fair! I smell like a distillery and I’m all sweaty!” 

“Use the decontamination showers if you want, but we leave in twenty. My boss’s bosses are ready for a full-on debriefing and we can’t be late.”

“I can’t debrief if I’m briefless! You really need to give a girl some warning when you’re whisking her away!”

“This isn’t a vacation, Wynonna. It’s a time-sensitive operation.” He flicked the paper bag he brought in. “It’s not a burger, but it’ll do.”

He turned to Waverly, handing her a slip of paper. “If for any reason we don’t come back or make contact, wait twenty-four hours, then call this number. The password is X. Got it?”

Waverly accepted it. “Got it.” She typed the number into her phone. The last time Dolls gave her similarly cryptic instructions, she panicked when she thought she’d lost the paper, but it was just at the bottom of her purse. “And here,” he pushed a report into her hands. “I’ll need you to finish doing the follow up interviews for me. Most of these people don’t live in Purgatory anymore so just do it by phone and be thorough. Normally I’d have Wynonna do them, but everyone hangs up on her.”

“Hey!”

“Eat your breakfast.” He looked at his watch. “Now you’ve got nineteen minutes.”

Wynonna’s shoulders sagged. She pulled out the sandwich from the bag and found a whole wheat English muffin with an egg-white omelet and a sausage patty. “What in Hannibal’s nightmare is this?” Wynonna took a bite. “It’s not even real sausage! Is that turkey?” she asked. “And where’s the ketchup?” She took another bite, then sighed. “You health nuts are really doing the devil’s work.”

Waverly set herself up at Dolls’ desk where the office phone was and began preparing her questions. By eleven am she had gotten through a third of the interviews when her cell phone buzzed.

She’d already read the angry texts from Stephanie, the annoyed ones from Sonya and Rachel, and the supportive one from Chrissy. She’d answered all of them in kind and officially disinvited herself from Stephanie and Tommy’s wedding. At this point she was expecting another one of Champ’s weekly texts, but when she looked down it was Nicole’s name that had popped up.

Her brow furrowed. The deputy wasn’t in the station since she had a day off after back-to-back shifts and her absence had physical presence. Waverly unlocked her phone and clicked on the text. There were no words, just a photo attached.

Waverly opened the image to see it was of Nicole with her red hair ruffled and damp, like she’d just gotten out of the shower, in a clean white t-shirt. She was bent down in front of her police cruiser, pointing at the little blue Ford emblem on the bumper of her Crown Vic with an exaggerated pout.

A smile broke over Waverly’s face and she let out a breathy laugh. "Idiot," she muttered.

* * *

At noontime, Waverly felt off-kilter when she saw Nicole coming into the station. She looked like she had driven over in a rush, a half-eaten granola bar hanging out of her mouth as she scruffily buttoned up her wrinkled pale blue uniform shirt. Over her arm hung a dark blue PSD jacket and she was stuffing her cell phone into her pants pocket. She ripped the granola bar from her mouth and nodded her head in greeting at Waverly, ducking into the breakroom.

Waverly quickly followed her in to find out what was going on.

“Nicole, don’t you have the day off?”

Pouring herself a mug of coffee, Nicole glanced at her watch. “Mhm, sorry, Nedley wants me in his office in two minutes. I’m technically on call, but I didn’t expect such short notice.”

“Is everything okay?”

“There you are, Haught,” the Sheriff said, coming into the breakroom. “Good, you’re here, too, Waverly. What time does Dolls let you off?”

“Five today.”

“Well, I’m overriding his authority then. I’m sending all non-essential personnel in this building home at three pm. Just got word that we’re at threat of heavy rain and wind damage with the incoming thunderstorm.”

Nicole was blowing over her scalding hot coffee as she listened. “My assignment, Sir?”

“You have the best navigational skills of all my deputies and I trust how you drive on rugged terrain so I’m sending you to make some house calls to the folks who live up in the boondocks. They either don’t have phone service or are too busy workin’ their land to answer. Now, they’ll probably be aware of the coming storm, should have television and all, but I want confirmation that they know that I’m urging ‘em to stay indoors.” He handed her a list. “Should be able to get through these and back by four if you leave now and move quick.”

He looked at Waverly. “Your daddy built a storm cellar on the Earp Homestead, didn’t he?”

She nodded. “Yes, after Willa was born, it’s fifty yards from our house. Do you think I’ll need to use it?”

“I’d advise you go home like normal, you’ll be safest indoors. Just do like everyone else and keep the weather channel on in the background.”

Nicole swallowed the last of her granola bar and sipped her coffee, wincing.

“All right, I’m heading out then.”

“Wait, Haught.”

“Yes, Sheriff?”

“That little cruiser I assigned you ain’t gonna cut it if you get caught up in the storm. He dug into his pocket and worked the key to his Chevy Tahoe off his bunch. “Take mine.”

Nicole’s jaw tensed as she stared at it, then him. “Thank you, Sir, I'll get it done,” she said more seriously, nodding curtly and taking the key. Her gaze settled over Waverly and she reached out, brushing down her arm. “Get home safe, yeah?”

Waverly covered the deputy’s hand with her own, squeezing it. “I will, but drive careful, Nicole.”

“Of course.” She shared a look with Nedley, left her barely touched mug of coffee behind and headed out the door.

Soon afterwards Waverly watched on as every single deputy along with the two rookies employed by the Sheriff came in one after the other, each receiving assignments and going off alone or in pairs to complete them while Nedley holed up in his office fielding calls and keeping up with dispatches.

Waverly continued her phone interviews, unsettled all day knowing Nicole was out there, sleep-deprived, caffeine-withdrawn, worked over and likely feeling the beginnings of hunger by the time three pm rolled around.

As other staff members in every department started exiting the building, Waverly slid her purse up her arm, taking a moment to fix Dolls' desk, leaving him a note in case he and Wynonna came back and wondered why she left early. She’d tried calling, but their phones were off, so she sent texts to the both of them on her way out the front entrance. She was greeted by a strong breeze, causing her to hold onto her purse with both hands as she jogged down the street to where her Jeep was parked.

She got in and started her engine, observing as one of the public wastebaskets tipped over, trash littering the sidewalk. A few people she recognized as employees from different departments of the Municipal Offices came rushing out as well, heading for the rear parking lot.

Linda who worked in Medical Billing exited only to have her stylish wide-brimmed hat fly off her head. She chased it down the street for half a block where it got caught on a lamppost long enough for her to retrieve it. She dusted it off, shaking her head and muttering to herself as she walked back.

Waverly flipped on the weather station:

" _…windspeeds getting up to twenty-five miles per hour with gusts at forty miles per hour, we’re expecting power outages later tonight so keep a battery operated radio nearby and handy to stay updated, folks. The Local Weather Service recommends remaining indoors during the thunderstorm this evening...”_

Waverly sighed and drove down the main road, pulling onto the highway. When she worked and lived at Shorty’s Saloon, storms would come through all the time, but her apartment was just above the bar. There was no commute to worry about or severe driving conditions to keep an eye on.

When some of the worst storms had visited their town, she and Champ would simply take cover in the basement of the bar, playing cards and listening to the radio with candles on. It was probably the most romantic he’d ever gotten with her, basking in her little jumps at the strikes of thunder and lightning, promising he would protect her in his big strong arms.

Before that, when she’d lived with her aunt and uncle, Gus was always vigilant about the weather, careful to keep Waverly indoors and she’d had Curtis and his brothers build a cellar at the ranch just for the purpose of evading a common country storm.

Waverly sped down the lane, catching a glimpse of two storm chasers pulled over on the side of the highway, video equipment in hand. She switched to her exit lane and coasted along onto the path that rounded off and led to a fairly wide road that ran alongside the sprawling forest.

Its trees were swaying in the wind, lush green heads tossing from side to side, branches waving, resembling leafy people lining the roadsides, and the harder they danced, the more they seemed to chant, get home, get home, get home.

It was usually an enjoyable drive for Waverly, taking up an hour each way on the desolate backroads where she was free to skirt the speed limit and she’d driven short distances in heavy winds before, had already experienced the surprise of a wind gust shaking her Wrangler and shaking her insides. Nature was powerful like that, had a way of swinging wildly when it wanted to.

Billowing clouds rolled in overhead, the golden-hour sun replaced by a sullen blue. The sky was joining in to murmur its own dreary warning as it began to drizzle.

Waverly switched on her wipers to their lowest setting and curved with the narrowly winding lane.

As the road straightened again, a large tree branch being carried by a gale of wind spiraled towards her and Waverly didn’t have time to think – she slammed her foot hard on the brake pedal, swerving to the right, but the speed of the flying branch caused it to crash into her windshield anyway, her Wrangler spinning out.

Her forehead whipped into the steering wheel as she rolled into the forest and the last thing she remembered was seeing the crowded line of trees before the impact.

* * *

She woke disoriented, blinking slow and lethargic to the staticky voice of the radio station broadcaster:

_“…Severe Weather alert, the storm that was predicted to be narrowly passing by our little county has taken a sudden turn according to the latest Doppler Radar update. We won't just be experiencing the effects, we are now directly in its path, ladies and gentlemen. Local Weather Service guidelines urge all citizens of Ghost River County to get indoors and underground immediately. With the developing thunderstorm, expect windspeeds to surpass sixty miles per hour and possible hailstorms...”_

“What…” Waverly groaned, looking around. She swiveled her rearview mirror to the left to see why her head was throbbing so badly; a gash had opened up right along her hairline and blood was seeping down her face, dripping off her nose. She wiped off as much of it as she could. Nausea rolled through her and the hairs on the nape of her neck stiffened, erupting under her dermis like microscopic needles bursting through skin, sending an achy shiver down her spine.

Her mouth felt cottony and her vision swam in and out. She tried to assess what had happened, seeing that her windshield had cracks spiked all along it, but was otherwise still intact. She fixed her mirror and looked behind her. The road was visible a couple yards down. The time on her car radio made her feel feeble: 5:27 PM. Long after she should have been home.

She searched through her purse for her phone, skimming the text messages.

_Hey, babe. This storm bring back any memories? Wish you were here. – Champ_

_Got it, babygirl. Dolls and I are stuck outside of town, we’re holing up in a motel room for the night until the storm passes. Text me that you’re home, wanna know you’re safe. – Wynonna_

_Message received. Be safe, Earp. – Deputy Marshal Dolls_

She had three missed calls from Wynonna and two from Nicole.

Her sister was too far. Waverly tried to call Nicole, but when no dial tone came through, she realized cell service was out.

“Shit!” Waverly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to get the fog over her brain to clear. She couldn’t be more than thirty minutes from home. She just had to get there.

She shifted gears and reversed out of the forest clearing and back onto the road. Rain was coming down hard and heavy. She turned her wipers onto the highest setting, the loud swishing blades grating back and forth against the damaged glass. Thunder and lightning struck loud and mean and Waverly’s gut coiled tight.

She drove for a few minutes before she felt it, the winds grazing the sides of her Wrangler, the car rocking in peril. Up above, the sky that was sullen and blue was filling with pouch-like clouds, little hanging bellies full of water and air, casting a dark shadow that seemed to descend over Waverly.

The sky cracked with another round of thunder so loud Waverly could feel it in her bones and sporadic sparks of lightning started going off with such visceral clarity, it was reminiscent of a lightshow. A gust of wind rattled the windows and a hollow whistling seemed to drive alongside Waverly no matter how hard she pressed on the gas to escape it.

The clouds whorled together, dozens of purplish bluish bolts of lightning like the shape of skinny tree branches touching down and flying back upwards, jumping along the atmosphere.

Mixing with rain, the swirling mass of mammatus clouds unleashed hail, pelting the top of Waverly’s Jeep, jolting her senses with every knock, the sound akin to nature’s knuckles rapping persistently at her windshield, her windows, her roof. The world was at once jarring and quiet, a grim stillness silencing her to everything, even her possibility of tomorrow. It ceased to exist. All she had sifting through her fingers was this day and no other.

The forest at last came to an end and she emerged into the open road alongside the prairie fields. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five minutes from home if she could just keep her pace. She switched on her high beams and squinted, trying to see past the torrential rain and hail. Fear had her muscles seizing, making her stringent and focused.

A gust of wind slammed into her car, muscling her off-road and into the open fields. She didn’t make a sound, just tried to keep her breathing steady and keep driving along the grassy plains, too scared to get back on the road for a moment before realizing it was probably going to be the fastest way.

She checked her phone, knowing deep down the signal wouldn’t have returned, but desperate enough to hope for it anyway. 

Another gust of wind slammed into the back of her car, spinning her out and around, her phone tumbling away as she shrieked. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she was whispering, “No, no no, please, no,” in an endless, helpless loop. Then another gust and another and another, tossing her like she was nothing, like her car didn’t weigh three thousand pounds.

Her Jeep toppled onto its right side in time with a golf-ball sized piece of hail slamming into her window, cracking the glass directly above her ear and she’d let out a blood curdling scream that the storm would not allow anyone to hear.

With both ears covered, Waverly was slouched in her car, suspended sideways, wide-eyed and panting. She looked around in a haze, on the brink of shutting her eyes and simply giving up and she did what most people did when they thought they were going to die. She prayed for something, anything, god or the universe, it didn’t matter. Then she did what most people did after they prayed. She kept on.

Hugging the steering wheel, she wiggled around until she got her seatbelt undone, falling and slamming all the way to the right against the passenger side door, her shoulder taking the brunt of the hit, the impact sparking a memory of the last time Wynonna was in her car, angry at Dolls for deserting her to get grilled by some workplace psychoanalyst who pushed too far. Waverly had taken her sister for a drive and a milkshake to cheer her up, and when Dolls tried to contact her, she’d turned the BBD-issued radio off and tossed it into Waverly’s glove compartment.

_You’re all the chatter I need, babygirl._

Waverly’s chest caved at Wynonna's whisper in her ear and she scrambled her sluggish limbs together, popping open the little compartment door and staring at hope just sitting there, and it made sense that her sister was the one to put in place her last and final defense.

She swiped the radio in hand and sobbed with relief when it lit up. She tuned it away from the encrypted BBD channel to the one local law enforcement communicated over and held down the push-to-talk button.

“Hello? Is anyone there? Does anyone copy?”

Moments went by and nothing.

“Crap,” she whispered. It was likely she was already out of range of the Sheriff's department.

“Hello?” she tried again, whispering, “Come on, come on, come on,” willing someone to answer with all her heart. “Does anybody copy?”

Static, then crackling over the radio, “Haught, code four, go ahead.”

“Nicole?”

“Waverly? Waverly! Are you okay? Go ahead.”

“No, I…I’m not okay." Remembering protocol for radio etiquette, she quickly added, "Um. Over.”

“What happened? Where are you? Go ahead.”

“I got into an accident. My car got blown off the road and it’s overturned in a field. Over.”

“Where are you? Go ahead.”

“On route 22 between Highway 12 and the Earp homestead. Over.”

“Can you see the road from where you’re upturned right now? Go ahead.”

Waverly looked out her rear windshield. “Yes, I see the road. Over.”

“Okay, turn your hazard lights on so I can locate you, I’m on my way. Standby.”

“Nicole, can’t you send emergency services or something? Over.”

There was silence for a moment. “Waverly, I am emergency services and the only person in range. I got stuck on Mrs. McCreary’s farm, that’s three miles down from the homestead, it’s the only reason you’re reaching me right now. Go ahead.”

Waverly whimpered when another gust of wind shifted her Jeep. “It’s dangerous out here, Nicole. Over.”

“Stay in the car. Do you have a blanket or anything to cover yourself with? Go ahead.”

Waverly clicked the hazard button, her lights blinking, then struggled around the passenger seat, reaching into the back for her jacket. She pulled it on, flipping the hood over her head.

“I’ve got my jacket. Over.”

“I’m ten minutes out. Remain calm, Waves. I’m coming. Standby.”

No, Waverly thought. Nicole couldn’t be ten minutes away. Mrs. McCreary’s farm was past Waverly’s house and Waverly was at least twenty-five minutes away from the homestead.

“Nicole, aren’t you thirty minutes out? Over.”

“I’ve been driving since you gave me your location and if you think I’ve not got two feet on the gas, then I don’t know what to tell you, Waverly Earp. I'm not leaving you out there a minute longer than I have to. Now standby for me.”

With her car being shoved every so often across the meadow and hail angrily ricocheting down, Waverly felt a remorseful sort of relief that she wasn’t going to have to go it alone, but the fear of Nicole coming out into this for her didn’t sit well. A series of wind gusts could hit Nicole just as badly as it had hit her. She didn't want any part of it.

She didn't know how any of this was happening, if she deserved it, if it was just life, if it was her fault somehow. Was she just so bad that she was being punished? In the series of everything, of all the bad things, from Willa dying, to her Momma leaving, to her Daddy's violence, to Wynonna's sudden, unexplained departure, to her Uncle Curtis lost to her, was this the finale that would just finish her off once and for all?

She huddled where she was and hugged the radio like it was Nicole herself. She took comfort in having another person's voice at the end. That was more than some people got.

* * *

“One minute out, Waves. Tell me if you see my lights flashing. Go ahead.”

Waverly’s Jeep had toppled over again, putting it on its roof and she laid there still as she could, staring out the windows for any sign of red and blue.

“Nothing yet. Over.”

“Say when. Go ahead.”

Minutes felt like hours and Waverly imagined Nicole passing her and never finding her, of them missing one another somehow and her eyes burned.

Then bright color burst through the storm.

“I see lights! Over!”

“I have eyes on your vehicle, Waves. Standby.”

Waverly crawled across the ceiling of her overturned car to the driver’s side door and tried to push it open, but the force of the wind held it down. She saw tactical boots come into view and she cried out, dropping her head into her hands, then she tried to push the door again.

It budged open with Nicole heaving it outwards from the other side and she looked heaven-sent in her patrol jacket and police gear, bending in front of Waverly’s Jeep, reaching two gloved hands out as she braced her back against the door to keep it open.

The second Nicole had a grip on Waverly’s upper arms, she hoisted her right out of the vehicle and into the storm. She cupped Waverly’s face, pausing in worry at the gash on her head and checking her pupils for any abnormal dilation as she walked her backwards from the Jeep. A strong wind shoved them both sideways, and because Waverly hadn’t zipped up her own jacket, the wind easily blew it off her body and away it went sailing, leaving her to get soaked under the thundering rainstorm. Nicole caught her back by the arm.

“Shit, let's go,” she said, not wasting another second, dragging Waverly towards the flashing Chevy. Nicole helped her into the spacious SUV, then dashed around, throwing herself into the driver’s seat.

“Buckle up and hold tight,” Nicole told her, switching the heat on for Waverly's sake and pulling the old-timey column shifter forward, then down into drive, both hands on the steering wheel as she took off.

Waverly strapped herself in silently and couldn't say a word, right hand clutching the door panel, the other grabbing the black plastic armrest on her side of the wide center console that housed a police scanner, twin radio speakers, with a worn out Maglite torch and radar gun holstered off the end behind the console’s cupholders.

Nicole sped down the fields, going at odd zig zags until she found a groove with the direction of the wind itself, allowing it to push her from behind, but not sideways, avoiding those dangerous crosswinds that Waverly had been victim to.

With how bright Nedley’s high beams were and the combination of the still flashing lights on his Chevy, there was better illumination, but Waverly could only see a few milliseconds at a time as constant water coated the windshield in a thick glaze that the car’s wildly flapping wipers worked tirelessly to disrupt.

Nicole peered out like her dark eyes could see regardless, and as a large piece of debris flew at them, Nicole fed the wheel quickly, hand over hand, foot going heavy on the brake, spinning the monster of a Chevy out in a tight narrow arc across the wet prairie grass just in time to allow what looked like a mailbox to fly past them.

She looked at Waverly right then for a second, straightening the steering wheel with unflappable determination in her expression, in the set of her shoulders. Her left knee braced the side of the car door and she lifted her right foot off the brake pedal.

“Soon, Waverly. Soon you’ll be safe in your cellar.”

She gassed the Chevy and took off again, and maybe they would have made it to the cellar like Nicole said, with the winds vaulting them forward at treacherous speeds, if the storm wasn't spinning like a vortex above their heads, if in the ever-mysterious troposphere, a mass of air wasn’t churning like a maelstrom out of control, misting fog, spitting ice balls and pouring rainwater, blasting a firestorm of lighting bolts with ear-splitting booms of thunder, if maybe a white circular wall cloud wasn't rotating an upside down cascading tier-like mass that hung out of the sky and raged on and on over miles and miles.

The sky tinted a nightmarish color, sickly and green, leaves and dust and dirt and debris kicking off the ground more frenetically than before, swarming all around them as a foreboding hum of silence fell over the storm.

When Nicole spun the SUV for a second time, out of the way of a neighbor’s ripped off porch railing, they came face to face with something Waverly had heard stories about, but had yet to witness in her life.

Nicole’s face turned ashen and Waverly's heart stopped as they stared up, mouths agape.

A swirling funnel in the sky was spawning from the rotating thunderstorm, reaching down to earth and the earth seemed eager to meet it, a flurry of dusty air filtering upwards. Nicole cursed with all of her soul as a tornado hit the ground in the grasslands of Purgatory.

“Out! Out the car now! It's too close!” Nicole yelled. “We have to get to low ground!” Undoing hers and Waverly’s seatbelts, she shouldered open her door. The wind pressure kept it suctioned shut for a terrifying few seconds, but grunting, Nicole exerted more force until it gave way. She took Waverly’s hand in hers and dragged her over the console and out the car.

They looked at each other like they were the only two people on the planet. With what they were facing, Waverly thought they might as well be. It was then that the sound of what was stalking them filled up all of the empty space inside of Waverly. It was malevolent and evil, pure gusting predatory evil, a vacuum of whistling winds that clogged her ears and vibrated in her veins.

Nicole was running them through the shortgrass prairie fields, the soft wheat-colored blades rippling together under their feet like endless ocean waves. She pulled Waverly with her in a race towards lower ground, their boots squishing into soggy soil. A gale of wind caught up to them, knocking the two apart and Waverly cried out, “Nicole!” as her hand ripped from her only lifeline and she went rolling away like tumbleweed.

“Waverly!” the deputy screamed, flying back as she was hurled far worse, across grass and dirt, landing on her hands and knees, skidding backwards as she collapsed forwards, the left side of her face slamming down and scraping through gravel-laden muck with devastating momentum. Her gloved hands scrabbled at the sodden earth for a grip and she looked up, the rain washing mud off her face, then washing blood spilling from a laceration at the side of her eye. Her gaze jumped wildly in dread from Waverly to the tornado.

"Waves," she could be seen mouthing as she crawled back to her knees, hands twisting into the blades of grass. 

Waverly shuffled off her own knees unsteadily, the winds shifting course, pushing her towards Nicole before she could stand.

Mother nature, just to be clear of her power, tossed another bout of wind that slammed Waverly from behind and pitched her like a missile towards the deputy, the breath knocking clean out of Nicole as she was bowled over onto her back, Waverly landing on her.

“Don’t let go!” Nicole yelled, trying to be heard over the rush of wind and rain and hail, locking Waverly into a brutal hug. Waverly, shivering, clothes soaked through and chilled to the bone, nodded that she understood, clinging to Nicole in fear of being separated again.

Together they helped each other stand, staying close to the ground as they again made their way towards the lower plains, Waverly’s arms cinched around the deputy’s waist, Nicole's hold tight around Waverly’s upper arm and shoulder.

At the first sight of a flat, deep enough ditch, Nicole yelled, “Get in!”

Waverly laid down face first, Nicole laying her body over Waverly's, guarding her from the storm with its vicious hail and debris. All Nicole could do for herself was protect her head with her forearms as the tornado roamed free, dust coating the musky, wet air.

Their bodies molded so closely together that Waverly could feel the deputy flinch against her every time a big enough chunk of icy hail struck her back and legs. Waverly pushed her hands up from under herself to help shield Nicole’s head as much as she could. Not a moment later a hailstone skirted over her knuckles, opening skin and stinging down to her bone.

As they lay together in the worst moment of both of their lives, Waverly began to weep in earnest face down in the cold dirt.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed and Nicole’s face nuzzled in closer, their cheeks sliding together.

“What?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry, Nicole! You’re in this hell because of me!”

“Shh,” she heard washing over her ear, warm with the sort of kindness displayed when death was knocking at someone’s door and another hastened to answer it. “Shh, Waverly. Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going to happen here, but if it's in your fate to face off a tornado, then this is exactly where I want to be. Between you and that goddamn tornado.”

“Nicole!” she cried.

“You’re not alone, Waves.” Nicole flinched violently, teeth gritted together and Waverly’s heart withered. “I’m right here, darling. I’m staying right here.”

Waverly pressed her cheek closer to Nicole’s, crying not for herself, but for much, much more.

The storm raged on and they remained stranded there, blind to the movements of the spinning cyclone and Waverly’s body was being shielded, but a body wasn’t a heart and her heart had no shield, and if Nicole was about to die for her, then Waverly realized she would rather die instead.


	7. Chapter 7

Night had fallen gradually, bringing the storm into the dark, and Waverly didn’t know how long she had been laying there with Nicole on top of her. Her watch had been shattered and time was not something she could much focus on. Not when the rainfall had intensified, their ditch no longer just a damp hideaway, but a puddling enclosure of muddy water that Waverly would sputter on whenever her straining neck got too tired to keep her head elevated.

As the latest rush of hail petered out, Nicole, having noticed Waverly’s struggle, surrendered one of the hands that was meant to be shielding her head, and slid her arm under the smaller girl, setting her gloved fist into the pooling water beneath Waverly’s face so she could rest on it.

Her neck was so fatigued, she couldn’t do more than gratefully lay her head down.

Waverly kept her jaw clenched shut to stop her teeth from chattering, but the cold would bite so hard every once in a while, she’d shiver with it.

“Do you know how many laws that tornado broke?” Nicole asked her. “Could arrest it for trespassing, vandalism, assault, swirling without a license, even a noise complaint might swing in court, you know.”

Waverly pushed her cheek harder into the deputy’s. “This isn’t funny, Nicole! Stop trying to make me laugh!”

“What, tornado took your funny bone?”

“You’re lucky it didn’t take our actual bones!”

Nicole laughed, and because they were so closely pressed together, that laughter traveled into Waverly against her will. She pulled at Nicole’s hair, outraged but harmless.

“Waverly, you’re not going to like what I say next.”

Waverly was already in a ditch. There was nothing she was going to like about any of this. Softly, she replied, “I’m not a child, Nicole. Please don’t treat me like one.”

“We’ve been stranded here for nearly two hours, you have no protection from the elements, your clothes are soaked through, you’re in water, and if you don’t warm up soon, you’ll suffer the effects of hypothermia, probably already are, and that means –”

“I know,” Waverly whispered. “I’ve been thinking about it, how cold I feel –”

“Hey, no, listen. My gramps used to say a good run is better than a bad stand. We’re in a real bad stand, Waves. We’ve got to move. I’m thinking the tornado has either died out or gone off one way or the other, the winds are bad, but not like before and there’s a lull in the hail right now, but this storm is going to be rampant all night long and we won’t survive it with no cover or protection. We’re sitting ducks and the lightning activity alone could take us out.”

Waverly swallowed.

“I estimate we’re two to three miles from the homestead. Are you ready to hear the best-case scenario and the worst-case?”

“Tell me.”

“Best-case scenario, we walk back up field and find the Chevy right where we left it, get in, and in less than five minutes I deliver us safe and sound to the homestead.”

Waverly closed her eyes. “And the worst-case?”

“We find the Chevy is completely damaged or not drivable and we start a trek to the homestead that in these conditions will take us well over an hour to complete, and that time-frame is me being optimistic.”

Waverly exhaled shakily and her frozen fingers resisted as she curled them back into Nicole’s hair.

“Let me lay it out clearly. The winds just shifted. They’re coming from the south, the homestead is south, so if we walk, the winds will be hitting us head on. Waverly, we can walk against it together. The thing likeliest to kill us if we try this is flying debris, so we’ll have to be vigilant. I’m proposing that we combine our weight, I’ll stand behind you, you stand in front of me, you’ll hold tight to the sides of my belt, I’ll keep one arm across your chest and I’ll have my flashlight trained ahead for visibility. But you’ll have to move with me. If I say right, we run right. If I say left, we run left. If I say ground, we dive to the ground. Are you with me?”

Waverly wanted to live. Wanted that next day so badly she couldn’t explain it. She wanted out of this nightmare, wanted to know she was capable of waking herself up if she decided to.

“I’m with you, Nicole.”

“There’s one more thing.”

“What?”

“If the Chevy isn’t drivable and we do have to walk, there’s no guarantee that I can’t get hit from behind or from a direction I’m not looking in. I might get hurt and an impact to the head by debris from these windspeeds would kill me immediately. So, I guess what I’m saying is, if I’m taken out, I’d like very much for you to take my jacket for warmth, my gear for weight and safety, and then keep moving on without me. Don’t get sentimental about it until you’re secure in your cellar. My cellphone is zipped into my left jacket pocket, the passcode is zero one zero two, it’ll be useful for when service comes back on.”

Waverly’s heart couldn’t hear any of this. If something happened to Nicole, she wouldn’t just leave her, it wasn’t in her nature, but she knew Nicole wouldn’t accept her saying so.

“I understand,” she said instead.

“Okay, let’s sit up a second.”

Nicole lifted off her and Waverly pushed up and out of the muddy water, feeling like she could breathe again. They sat back onto their knees, facing one another. Bursts of lightning threw a purple glow across Nicole’s weathered face.

“Give me your hands,” Nicole said as she pulled off her gloves and shoved them into her right jacket pocket, zipping them safely away.

Waverly raised her hands and Nicole took them, feeling their stiffness. “Damn. We need to get these warm, you won’t have a good grip on me if you can’t feel your fingers.” She started squeezing Waverly’s hands between her own, leaning down and gusting her hot breath over them, rubbing and massaging the blood back into Waverly’s digits, careful around Waverly’s bruised knuckles. She did this until Waverly could start to feel her fingers again.

She took her gloves back out of her pocket and helped Waverly put them on. “You’ve got one job, Waverly. You hold on and you don’t let go.”

“I won’t let go, Nicole.”

The deputy took a deep breath, then reached back to unholster her tactical flashlight. She clicked it on and lit up the pitch-black night. She adjusted the beam from spot to flood, casting a wide circle of illumination with a powerful center focus.

Nicole took a second to survey their surroundings. Just fields and fields of wind blowing across grass, and far in the distance Waverly knew trees scattered the edges in small crowds, but they could hardly make them out in the dark this far away. Nicole turned her gaze back to Waverly, holding her hand out.

“Ready?”

Waverly nodded. “Ready.”

They stood up together and Waverly turned around, Nicole stepping in behind her. Waverly reached both arms back, hooking one gloved hand into the belt behind Nicole’s firearm and the other hand behind the deputy’s spare magazine pouches. Nicole strapped her left arm like a belt across Waverly’s chest, from one shoulder to the other and she raised her flashlight, illuminating the path in front of them in a cone-shaped funnel, offering a long range of vision up to the point that the outer perimeters inevitably melded with their blackened environment.

They carefully edged up the path through the wind and rain towards the Chevy to find it wasn’t damaged or undrivable at all. It was simply not there, not anywhere. Most likely swallowed up and carried off.

When Waverly’s chest started rising and falling with anxious panic, Nicole held her tighter, closer. “Hey, we knew this could happen,” she said, then faced them southward. “Every step forward is one step home.”

Waverly gripped hard at the sides of Nicole’s belt as they began to walk against the storm.

Whatever loomed ahead, they would soon find out.

* * *

The first bad gust that came head on had them standing still together until it passed and for a while after, the journey started to seem possible. Waverly knew the prairies, knew the general sense of how far from home she was, knew how quick the drive was going sixty miles per hour in her car.

Their snail’s pace was painful, but it was going, and forward movement, as time went on, became a rhythm she found hope in. Every step that she was still there and Nicole was still with her seemed worthy of gratitude.

With water filling her socks and her boots dragging through wet muck, with the thunder grumbling and with Waverly shivering, exertion was keeping her alive.

“Left!” Nicole yelled and they both went running, pitching down to the ground as a road sign blew past them. “Fuck,” Nicole cursed, her voice shaky. The roads signs were made of thin aluminum sheets of metal. Capable of slicing someone’s head off with a little force. Imagine a lot.

“We’re okay,” Waverly found herself saying. “We’re still here. Let’s keep going.” The faster danger came, the faster Waverly wanted to move past it, temped to revert to her natural way of handling conflict, avoid it at all costs, but nature was not interested in what Waverly wanted. It did as it pleased.

It assaulted her, climbed into her car, yelled in her ear, tossed her around, left her in a ditch, abandoned her to the dark, and Waverly could not outrun this one, could not lock it like a phone in her glovebox or pretend it didn’t exist, could not send the storm a strongly worded text to please remove her from its guest list. She’d have to face it, she’d have to be steady.

Nicole helped her up and they kept walking.

Almost halfway through the journey, they came to a halt. A T-shaped utility pole blocked their path, the long wooden beam lodged into the muddy ground, its electrical wiring wrapped around one of the crossbars, about ten feet of exposed black cable swinging in the wind like a roiling serpent.

“It could be live,” Nicole said.

“What do we do?”

Nicole nudged the side of her face into Waverly’s. “We walk around, far around, and slow. Move too fast or get too close and it could electrocute the ground we’re walking on.”

They shuffled all the way to the left in a wide half-circle around it. Once they cleared the pole, Waverly took a deep breath, but sheets of horizontal lightning going off in the sky startled her, radiating the underbelly of the clouds and glowing so bright that the night seemed for many moments to have become a strange purple dawn.

The bluish-violet zaps and flickers splashed from white cloud pouch to white cloud pouch, one after another, an extensive series of lightning hopping across, trailed by grumbling roars of thunder too close for comfort, a bad omen followed swiftly by a lightning ribbon charging towards the ground, splicing off into spidery dendrites midair, one of them finding its footing, a connection, striking the ground about a hundred yards to the right of them, draining hundreds of millions of volts of its charge into the earth, a thunderclap booming with it.

Nicole and Waverly froze, fearing sudden movement would attract the lightning’s outward spillage of electrical current in the ground into targeting them as suitable conductors.

“People think they wanna be tall,” Nicole muttered. “Try being the tallest thing when lightning strikes.”

Nicole’s body had gotten so tense, Waverly could feel the locked jaw against the side of her head. It was terrifying to think that Nicole was as scared as she was.

“If Wynonna was with me, I think she would have shot the clouds out of the sky by now.”

Nicole chuckled, going a little lax. “She’d be a great mess out here.”

The upped electrical activity in the sky seemed to be warning of the storm picking up again and they braced together as sustained winds breezed into them and wouldn’t let up, steadily driving the rain down. They muscled through it, Waverly trusting Nicole’s eyes to pick up danger in the low visibility conditions they were exposed to.

“We’re over halfway already,” Nicole told her. Ever brave. “We can do this.”

They had to lay on the ground, the winds got so heavy and less than a mile away from the homestead, they dove for cover from an oncoming swarm of leafy tree branches, and the lightning liked to remind them of its treacherous reach every now and then, but eventually, like with many harrowing journeys to shelter, the end came in sight.

Waverly and Nicole reached the edge of the homestead property, and the moment Waverly set eyes on the outline of her house still standing, something inside her stomach unclenched. As they passed the barn, Nicole flashed her light over it long enough to see something was lodged into the roof.

Waverly guided them with a quicker pace now, tugging Nicole by the sides of her belt between the house and the barn, past the two wooden structures to where the storm cellar was fifty yards out.

She cursed when she saw the chain and padlock around the handles of the cellar doors. She carried the keys, but her purse was long gone.

“I have a spare in the house,” she said. “Hanging by the backdoor.”

“Not worth the trouble,” Nicole replied. “Here, take the flashlight and let’s switch places. I can shoot out the lock, but if the bullet ricochets, I want you behind me.”

Waverly took the torch and slipped behind Nicole, sliding one arm around the deputy’s middle to keep them together, unwilling to let her go before they were inside.

She aimed the light at the lock and Nicole unholstered her Smith & Wesson, disengaging the safety on the ready-to-fire pistol as she walked them back a few feet, the wind making her take time to calculate her shot.

She squeezed the trigger, blowing the padlock clean off the door, the bullet’s blast loud and disorienting as Waverly caught sight of something in her peripheral sailing towards them. “Nicole!”

Waverly wrapped her other arm around the deputy’s waist, picking her up off the ground and hauling backwards fast, the pair tumbling sideways into the dirt, Nicole curved into Waverly’s protective embrace. The metal weathervane that was bolted to the top of the barn had come loose and streamed towards them, the rusty arrowhead stabbing into dirt about a foot away.

Nicole’s gun and flashlight had fallen in the tumble and they scrabbled up to grab them, hastening their efforts, and so close to safety now, the pair rushed to the sloped double doors in the ground, Nicole ripping the chain away and tossing it as they each pulled one side open.

Waverly lit the way down the incline of wooden steps, climbing in first, the deputy following as she holstered her gun, and they both stretched back up to reach outwards, pulling the doors in after them. There were two bolts and Waverly latched one while Nicole latched the other. They collapsed together on the steps and sat there.

Waverly looked over the railing to where she had hung a battery-operated lantern. She clicked it on, illuminating the ten-by-fifteen foot room. She turned off Nicole’s flashlight and they looked at each other in awe as Waverly handed the torch back. Nicole scooted close to her and hugged around her shoulders. “We did it,” she said.

Waverly laughed, leaning in, blissful tears in her eyes as she decided she could sit there for just one minute with Nicole and let the world slow down, let her pulse stop beating so arrhythmically it felt like she’d developed a heart murmur.

“We did it,” she agreed.


	8. Chapter 8

Nicole took her by the hand and led her down the steps. Waverly could finally assess how cold and wet she was again. Nicole unclipped her lapel speaker, unzipped her patrol jacket and released the cobra clasp on her tac-belt as she kicked off her muddy boots.

Waverly followed suit, pulling off the gloves first, and unlike Nicole, who clearly was dressed for the weather in her waterproof outerwear and tactical uniform pants, displayed by the fact that her PSD shirt was only wet around the collars and a little where her jacket had at times raised over the hem of her pants, Waverly was soaked all the way through.

“God,” she muttered, peeling her shirt off and struggling with it. “I’m sopping wet.”

Nicole chuckled and Waverly turned to look at the deputy hopping around pantless on one foot to slip off her waterlogged socks. The first one fell to the floor like slop. Nicole tossed the other one after and looked around the little room.

Waverly continued to undress. “Um,” she started to say.

“I’ll be lookin’ this way,” Nicole offered, making a spinny motion with her finger, turning around and stepping forward to survey her new surroundings.

Waverly and Wynonna had put some effort to prepare the cellar when their aunt found out they hadn’t ever been inside it after moving back onto the homestead together. Gus had scolded them like children, then directed Waverly to sweep the dusty steps and floor while she had Wynonna carry down a worn out wooden table from the barn and a wobbling metal pantry from the attic that they were planning to get rid of. She sent the sisters shopping and Gus had driven back to her ranch to bring them some supplies she could spare.

Waverly guiltily remembered when Gus had given her a laundry bag of clean blankets and the box of supplies, warning her to put a spare change of clothes and boots in the cellar. As Waverly got down to her wet underthings, she began to regret her forgetfulness. They’d done so much that day and a change of clothes was the last thing on her mind. Ironically, now it was the first.

Uncle Curtis was right when he used to tell her experience would teach her the things that mattered. She was learning all right.

“Here,” she heard and looked up to see Nicole had shifted back around, keeping her face turned to the side respectfully, eyes closed as she stood there, in a white cotton t-shirt and skin-tight black briefs, holding her police shirt in offering. “Wait,” she said, then lifted her t-shirt off as well, holding that out too, left in a thin white vest. “Dry off first.”

Waverly squeezed the water from her wet hair into a small puddle on the cold basement ground and stripped herself naked, shivering as she accepted the t-shirt. She recognized it as the one in the photo Nicole had sent her that morning. She wiped her face and neck dry, down her shoulders and arms, along her breasts and stomach, her back and legs.

She hung the shirt over the stair railing, waiting to make sure it didn’t fall at that angle, then she went to Nicole who was waiting patiently with her shirt held open. She turned her back and slipped her arms through the sleeves one at a time, Nicole helping her into it, reaching around to bring the two sides together. Waverly leaned instantly into the body she’d been taking cover in for the last how many ever hours.

Nicole let her and began doing up the buttons, fingers blindly working each one through its slot as Waverly rubbed up and down the deputy’s forearms, feeling the long shirttails cascade down her thighs, all the modesty she could ask for and Nicole could give her all the things she wanted. 

The deputy eased her around and took her face into her hands, studying the gash on her forehead.

“Come on, go sit,” Nicole said. “I see a first aid kit.” Nicole nabbed her t-shirt off the railing and used it to towel off her red hair. Waverly loved the messy look of it, wanted to run her fingers through it again, while she wasn’t in a ditch trying to keep Nicole from getting a head injury.

Waverly went to the wooden table that was deeper into the room, front and left of the stairway; it was littered with candles, a box of matches, two flashlights, a second battery-operated lantern, a small weather-radio, extra packages of D-cell and AA batteries, a bottle of hand sanitizer, two first aid kits, spare housekeys, her sister’s multitool pocketknife, and a can opener. Waverly had shoved the laundry bag of blankets and supply box Gus had given her under the table next to a small, unused garbage pail.

When they’d gone shopping, Waverly and Wynonna had picked out two cheap faux leather ottomans at the local Bargain Bin, making them the center of seating and comfort in the cellar. Renovating the house had taken a lot of money and they’d been on a very tight budget while Waverly was still bartending and Wynonna was just starting out at Black Badge.

Nicole hung the cotton shirt over her shoulder, pushed the lightweight ottomans together in front of the table and grabbed one of the first aid kits, opening it on the table while Waverly sat down and pulled out the cardboard box to see what supplies Gus had left behind. She found disposable plates, bowls and utensils, paper towels, a pack of dishrags, and Waverly took pause, pulling out an open bag of thick charcoal grey socks.

“Hey, look,” she said.

Nicole glanced over from where she had flipped on the lantern and was rifling through the contents of the first aid kit.

She came and sat cross-legged in front of Waverly on the bare ground and pulled the white shirt off her shoulder, wrapping the soft, damp material around Waverly’s feet to dry them off all the way. “God, Waves, your feet are little ice blocks.” They were numb beyond belief, but strangely, Waverly felt strong and jittery after what she’d gone through, like she couldn’t feel any of the pain in her joints or muscles or extremities anymore.

Nicole tried to massage warmth back into her soles and foot bottoms and it was nice to be coddled after everything. Waverly selected a pair of socks for herself, while Nicole pushed up, off the bare concrete floor. Waverly couldn’t believe she would sit there in the first place, and the deputy took the ottoman next to her, drying her own feet and accepting a pair of socks from Waverly, pulling them on.

The t-shirt became useless to them, left on the floor as Nicole reached for the sanitizer to clean her hands and turned back to the first aid kit. Waverly opened the laundry bag of blankets and immediately wrapped the first one around herself. She reached for the weather radio, fiddling with the antenna and flipping it on.

_“…if you’re just tuning in, earlier this evening, the storm took a turn for the worse when radar picked up a strong area of rotation traveling southeast in Purgatory at 6:03 PM, followed later by a debris ball, a high indicator for a radar-confirmed tornado. A warning went into effect, but due to downed phone lines, damaged cell towers and fibers, communications with residents in the area have not yet been made to confirm a tornado sighting…”_

The broadcaster’s voice became background noise as Nicole took a hot pack out from the kit, rolling it between her hands to activate it. “Here,” she said, giving the pouch to Waverly. “Keep it on your neck and chest first, then your stomach and pelvis, whatever feels good, really. Should warm you up pretty well under that blanket.” Waverly had forgotten what warmth felt like until she hugged the little hot pack to her chest, life trickling back into the center of her soul. She moved it around like Nicole said, at times pressing it even to her cheek and down her arms, breathing deeply and lost to the sensation of life-affirming pleasure coursing through her.

Nicole walked over to the metal pantry that was behind the wooden table up against the wall to the left of the stairway.

The shelves were lined with foods that had decent shelf-lives. At the very bottom were all their canned goods: garbanzo beans, pink beans, kidney beans, pinto beans, black beans, all kinds of beans, really.

“Look at them beans,” Nicole said, smirking and Waverly rolled her eyes. Next to them were tins of sardines, canned tuna and chicken, though Waverly didn’t know how chicken would taste from a can.

Wynonna had chucked it into the cart, insisting that in a disaster, she’d eat anything. Waverly had a feeling that Wynonna would have preferences even then. At the end of the row were the canned vegetables and fruits they both agreed on.

The second shelf had boxes of crackers, a two-for-one set of peanut butter and jelly, bags of almonds, pistachios, dried apricots, two boxes of granola bars that by sheer luck happened to be vegan, and a bag of Waverly’s go-to trail mix.

The third shelf was split between the sisters, one half held a twenty-four pack of soda that Wynonna had lamented had water in them, therefore she would survive a stormy night just fine and the other half had two large flasks and two stainless steel bottles filled with fresh water. The fourth and topmost shelf on the pantry was almost bare, just bags of beef jerky and Wynonna’s favorite chocolate chip cookies, and that was about as far as they got in their food planning. All things they could subsist on for a night or two without a stove or electricity.

“This is water?” Nicole asked, picking up the bottle that was one of Waverly’s favorite memories, decorated with green frogs wearing royal crowns. Her breakup with Champ had been recent and Tommy had already proposed to Stephanie when she’d seen the little prince-charmings hopping valiantly around the body of the bottle in eye-catching gold-embroidered red capes. She’d wondered if one was out there for her.

Wynonna was cart riding through the Bargain Bin and found Waverly standing in the aisle, staring at the bottle in hand. She’d pulled to a stop, walked over and said quite kindly that Casanova was probably just taking the long road into town, then her sister added the bottle to their pile, next to the polka dot one Waverly had already chosen and ushered her along. Wynonna was really sweet that day and insisted on putting everything on her credit card as a celebration of making the homestead even more home sweet home, and Waverly had finally started to believe that maybe she really did have a big sister again. Someone who would notice the small things and not make them feel so silly. It wasn't a bad thing to want the right kind of love. Wynonna understood that about her and Waverly had been in need of understanding. She was starting to catch on that her sister understood a lot more about her than she'd realized and she missed Wynonna something fierce right then.

“Yeah, that’s water,” Waverly replied absently.

“Got any paper towels or clean cloth? I need to wash that wound on your head and dress it.”

Waverly turned to the supply box and dug out the dishrags she’d seen earlier. She opened the bag and Nicole accepted a pink one, sitting on the ottoman directly in front of Waverly, looking through the box herself, pushing things around and taking out one of the disposable bowls. She filled it with water, soaked the rag in it and then slid her left hand around the nape of Waverly's neck, up into the middle of her long brown hair to keep Waverly still as she started gently cleaning the gash. It stung, but Nicole held her firm, murmuring she was sorry as she worked.

Nicole’s long legs bracketed Waverly’s tightly shut ones and she was leaned in close, picking up the tube of antibiotic ointment and applying a thin layer. While Nicole tended to her, Waverly held the hot pack over her heart, feeling warmed through and through.

She tried to be polite, to not stare at the way Nicole’s briefs and undershirt fit to her lean physique, clinging to her torso, the sleeveless vest displaying soft cuts of muscle at her biceps as they rounded Waverly, unwinding a roll of gauze, surrounding her senses, filling her range of vision with pale skin, delicate collarbones, a long neck, a strapping shoulder. Nicole smelled like rainwater and earth, muddy and musky and a lot like metal. Waverly breathed deeper, knowing why Nicole smelled this way. What Nicole had done to smell like this, and Waverly's emotions threatened to unravel her.

Nicole was lost in concentration, circling the cloth around Waverly’s head, face inching closer as she bandaged along her hairline to allow the medicine to soak into her wound and do its work. She picked up the medical scissors, cut off the excess and tucked the end at the back of Waverly’s head for a moment before securing it properly with a piece of flexible tape.

She turned her care to Waverly’s knuckles much the same way, cradling Waverly’s fingers in her soft grip, cleaning the bruised joints gently and applying ointment, wrapping her hand, cutting and taping off there as well. She was efficient about it and smiled when she finished, pleased with herself.

All wrapped up, all patched up, getting all warmed up, Waverly whispered, “Thank you,” and then, “Let me,” as she set her hot pack into her lap, sanitized her hands as best as possible around her bandage, fishing out a new bowl, filling it with fresh water and choosing a clean purple rag to take care of the vertical cut along the side of Nicole's face.

There were abrasions grazed into her cheek, but it was the open laceration that ran about two inches long from the corner of her left eye socket down the swell of her cheekbone that had Waverly distraught. Part of her feared that when Nicole saw it in the mirror, she would think on how she got it, think on Waverly, and Waverly would offer to take the wound into herself if she could, and the thought of sacrificing her face, her precious face that really meant something to Waverly, meant people looked her way and didn’t just dismiss her, was not something she could have ever imagined thinking of until she was sat there in front of Nicole’s precious face.

She cleaned the laceration with so much care and applied the ointment as tenderly as she could, wanting to never inflict another ounce of pain on this wonderful person. Nicole handed her a gauze pad and the small roll of medical tape she’d been using. Waverly applied the dressing and finished patching up Nicole as well. The deputy’s knees were skinned a little red and raw, but other than that, she seemed in order.

_“…still under strict orders to shelter-in-place. The storm will carry through the night. Expect moderate flooding by morning, and I urge you to check local traffic updates for exits and roads blocked off due to downed powerlines, uprooted trees, and other debris. To all those listening, it’s 11:15 PM and I hope you and your loved ones are safe in shelter…”_

Nicole took a blanket for herself, draping it over her shoulders. Waverly got up, put her hot pack down and busied herself with the box of matches, lighting candles. They wouldn’t need much light now and it would do better to save the lantern’s battery power for more important use.

“Good thinking,” Nicole murmured, picking up one of the candles and carrying it over to the stairs, avoiding the wet spots on the floor. She looked at their pile of clothes. “Do you have any bags I could put these in, feels weird to just leave them here.”

When Waverly remembered where the thirteen-gallon garbage bags were, her face flushed. “Yeah, behind the stairs.”

Nicole walked around to where the underside of the stairway offered a little bit of a hidden space. That’s where Waverly had opted to put a blue five-gallon bucket, a dish of sanitary wipes, a second bottle of sanitizer, and she’d left the box of multipurpose garbage bags there, figuring it would be best to line the bucket if they ever used it. It was a little bit mortifying to think that at some point in the night she might actually have to go back there to pee while Nicole could hear her and somewhat see her.

Nicole took a moment to line the bucket for them, saying, “Smart setup, beats trying to pee in one of those disposable bowls.”

Waverly blanched, shuddering to imagine it. “Why does that sound like you have experience peeing in things?”

“I go camping a lot, one time, back when I was a rookie, a colleague of mine invited me out, idiot didn’t check the weather and I was much too trusting, so we got completely rained out and stuck in our tents. I had to pee in my coffee mug and I’ll be the first to admit, my aim was not very good. Ended up throwing out my mug, my sleeping bag, and the entire friend.”

Waverly laughed. “Geez, the whole friend?”

“Well, he made a move on me while we were in the woods alone, forced me to knock some sense into him, to hell with that bullshit.”

Waverly shook her head, disgusted on Nicole’s behalf. “Ugh.”

Nicole chuckled. “Exactly.”

“Why would he…I mean it’s kind of obvious, never mind,” Waverly stopped, shutting her mouth.

“No, I get what you mean. My hair was longer back then so maybe not always as obvious, and when guys did find out about my sexuality, some of them took it as a challenge. They’d get close, be friendly, then the second we were alone, make their move. Always hated that. Showed me they wanted one thing, you know.” Then Nicole looked thoughtful. “Well, of course you know. Guys round here are like lions to a piece of meat when it comes to you. I been meaning to ask, do you need a taser? I've got spares in spades.”

Waverly walked around placing a candle in each corner of the room and one at the side of the pantry. “I actually have mace and a stun gun in my purse.”

“Ah,” Nicole said. “I bet you have a lot of things in your purse.” It was true, her purse probably weighed as much as she did. “Sometimes when I see you searching through it, I just want to turn it out and look over the contents, I’m so curious,” Nicole admitted, taking a moment to fish out her cell phone from her patrol jacket before shoving their wet clothes into the garbage bag.

“God, never. That’d be so embarrassing, Nicole.”

Nicole collected her t-shirt off the floor, adding it to the rest of their clothes, leaving the bag by the steps. “I know, it makes me eager to find out what you’re hiding. I feel like you’ve got yourself a pet stowed away in there or something. Maybe a gerbil or a ferret. That’d be nice.”

“A ferret?” Waverly repeated slowly. “Is that what you like to imagine?” She clicked off the lantern on the table, then went to the side of the steps to turn off the one hanging higher up, careful not to knock over the tools braced there, a sledgehammer, a shovel, an ax, all things Aunt Gus said would be useful if debris landed on the storm cellar doors and trapped them inside, even if their Momma had registered the shelter long ago with the fire department, it was reassuring to have a way out in case help took too long.

“Well, there was this one time,” Nicole started to say. “I was coming out the station and I saw you crouched down by that big tree across the road and you took this huge bag of walnuts out of your purse and started feeding a squirrel, and it let you. Then a few of its buddies came down and you fed them, too. I thought about that for days.”

The small room dimmed to a low light with six candles flickering, their shadows cast darker against the walls. Waverly returned to the wooden table and picked up her water bottle. “You think about me, Officer Haught?” she asked, brow raised as she took a sip.

Nicole carried over her gun belt with all its gear, her radio transceiver-and-speaker combo and her cell phone, setting the bundle of things on the table, stopping in front of Waverly. “Course I do,” she said. “May I?” she asked, and Waverly relinquished the bottle, watching Nicole sip from it.

“What else do you think about me?” Waverly asked, pulling the bottle back from Nicole’s hand when she was done, taking another drink of the room temperature water.

Nicole’s gaze settled over Waverly’s face and she adjusted the blanket around her shoulders so it didn’t drag along the floor. “I think about a lot of things, Waverly. But right now,” she said, picking up the ottoman and walking to the right side of the room, a large open space of nothing there but the bare ground. Nicole set her ottoman directly up against the wall to have somewhere to lean when she sat. “I’m thinking how dead on my feet I am. My body is crashing fast. Come on, Waves, turn the radio a little lower and let’s just rest for a bit. I think we’ve earned it.”

Waverly agreed, but, "Wait," she said, opting to push her own ottoman directly in front of the deputy's, creating for them a makeshift lounger. "Is this okay?" she asked, no desire nor intention to sleep alone when she would be warmest in Nicole's arms, already intimate with the deputy's chest against her back, having known it as the safest corner of the world at the worst hours of her life. 

"Cozy," Nicole murmured as she maneuvered her right leg over the cushion and sat herself up against the wall, long legs bent outward with her socked feet on the floor. She gestured politely to the space between her legs, not a hint of waywardness in her dark eyes. Nicole made it easy. Nothing had ever come so easy before.

Waverly sighed, her shadow trailing the floor as she picked up her hot pack, readjusting the blanket on her shoulders. She sat down, scooting backwards onto the cushion with Nicole, fitting herself between the insides of open thighs, her own legs stretched out comfortably in front of her.

Nicole wrapped her blanket from behind around the both of them, shrouding the smallness of Waverly within her longer frame, hanging her hands off the tops of her thighs at Waverly’s sides, but Waverly needed to be hugged. She laid the hot pack over her pelvis where it would continue to do its work and not fall, and she coaxed Nicole’s hands around her middle, felt them accept the invitation and clasp together around her belly.

Waverly leaned her head back on Nicole's shoulder and Nicole tilted the undamaged side of her face against Waverly's, inhaling so strongly she could feel it, and not many minutes later, Nicole began snoring softly, chest rising and falling in a deep and steady pattern, tugging at Waverly’s heart. The deputy had to be unbelievably exhausted.

Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hands, rubbing over the backs of them, separating the clasped fingers over her stomach to interlace her own fingers with them, not sure how else to express her gratitude except by being close and affectionate, even if Nicole wasn’t awake to notice. She closed her eyes, her own exhaustion paired with the dark flickering of the room lulling her asleep.

* * *

The smell of the vanilla and maple scented candles filled Waverly's nostrils, she blinked her eyes open, confused and sweaty-warm. Nicole’s hand twitched in hers and its movement made Waverly's head jerk against the deputy’s shoulder, caught off guard by the motion. She looked down at Nicole’s right hand in her own bandaged one, the blanket fallen open as the hand in question laid over the material of the uniform shirt she was in. Waverly became acutely aware of how little she was wearing, how exposed her other half was, the manner in which she had molded herself into Nicole's chest and groin. 

Waverly fought off a whimper and convulsed with a heavy pulse between her legs, mouth falling open as she knocked the hot pack off her pelvis, onto the floor, and she laid so still in fear of Nicole waking up and figuring out what was happening to her. 

Nicole’s hand tightened on its own, dragging into the soft of her belly, flicking over a button and Waverly squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe, turning her face outwards, cheek sliding roughly on the material of the blanket over Nicole’s shoulder. She imagined that hand sliding lower to work between her legs, how Nicole had her at her mercy, could just do it if she wanted to.

“Oh god,” she whispered, holding Nicole’s hands tighter in her own to force them still.

Nicole’s body stiffened against her for a long moment, voice unreadable when she said, “Waverly, can you please get off me?”

Waverly’s heart plummeted and she practically leapt away from Nicole, turning around to apologize, but as she did, she saw the look of strain on Nicole’s face and knew instantly something was wrong.

Nicole gingerly kicked the second ottoman away and bent forward, holding onto it with her left hand, knuckles going white. She fell down onto one knee right against the hard concrete floor, reaching her other hand around, clutching at her lower back. “Holy fucking hell,” she whispered. “It’s my back, it’s locking up.”

Waverly moved quickly, pulling the blanket off from around her shoulders to spread it on the floor. “Here, lay down,” she said, offering her hands, but Nicole stayed where she was, trembling, sweating and gritting her teeth against pain.

“Just, give me a second. Christ, Waves, I think the adrenaline just wore off, I’m feeling everything.”

Nicole got down to her other knee and fell face first into the seat cushion, then toppled unexpectedly to the cold ground, grunting as she went, and Waverly cried, "Nicole!" rushing to gather her in her arms and help shift her to the blanket, feeling horrible with every helpless groan Nicole let out on slow journey crawling there. When they finally got Nicole laid on her stomach across the blanket, the deputy slammed her fist into the floor like she was trying to deviate pain from her back into her hand, and Waverly held her wrist down to stop her from doing it a second time.

“Hey,” she whispered, kneeling over Nicole, stroking through her hair. “Can I lift your shirt up?”

“Yeah, okay, anything,” came the timid reply.

Waverly pulled the vest up to reveal Nicole’s pale skin riddled with reddened welts, some swollen, some bruised and Waverly covered her mouth, gaze sweeping down the exposed backs of her legs which weren’t as bad, a few spots of irritation along them, but the hail had thoroughly done a number on the deputy.

“Oh, Nicole,” Waverly said, rushing to the first aid kit as Nicole writhed on the ground. “Your back took a beating, it’s badly bruised and I think it’s spasming.”

“Yeah, I can feel something contracting. Like a cramp. Fuck, I’m gonna die.”

Waverly found the guide booklet that came with the kit, switched on the lantern so she could read and flipped to the lower back section. She swallowed and looked over at Nicole. “I can’t even properly massage you, the hail hurt your back so bad, but I’m going to put pressure with my hands to help it. We can use the hot pack, then a cold pack to ease the pain.”

“Yep, sounds good,” Nicole agreed flippantly, unfocused on what Waverly was saying as she pushed her fist down into her back. Waverly searched out a packet of Motrin Ibuprofen tablets for pain relief and brought them with the water bottle.

She helped Nicole drink and then pulled her shirt back down to avoid touching the bruising there. They didn’t seem open or bleeding, but swollen in places, the skin splotchy and discolored.

“The pain is here?” Waverly asked, pushing the heel of her palm into the area Nicole had been clutching at.

“Yeah, right there. I don’t care if you hurt me, Waves, forget the bruising and massage it anyway, the spasming is worse.”

Waverly did as asked, digging into the muscle with more pressure.

“Lower please,” Nicole murmured and by the stilted, teary-voiced way she made the request, Waverly could tell this was embarrassing for her.

“God, Nicole, you got hurt literally shielding me with your body. I’ll massage as low as you need. Just tell me if I go too far.” She massaged down Nicole’s right hip, over the swell of her backside, getting to the top of her glutes.

“That’s far enough,” Nicole whispered, followed by a small, “Thank you.” Waverly focused on the expanse of Nicole's lower right back, and Nicole groaned with relief when pressure alleviated the cramping muscle. “That’s better,” she said.

After Nicole’s fists unfurled and she was able to rest her head on her arms and her breathing normalized, Waverly picked up the hot pack she’d dropped earlier and she pressed it to Nicole’s back over her undershirt. She folded up the blanket Nicole had left on the ottoman into a thick rectangle and laid it over the hot pack to weigh it down and better allow the heat to seep into the soft tissue and soothe the discomfort. 

She moved to sit by Nicole’s head, stroking her hand into her hair. “Is the heat irritating your bruises? We could just do the cold pack instead.”

“Is fine,” Nicole said, voice slurring sleepily. Nicole’s stomach grumbled loudly, but Nicole was too exhausted and in too much agony to notice. Waverly felt like pulling her own hair out. How much was Nicole going to have to go through because of her?

“When was the last time you ate?” Waverly asked.

“Uh, a chicken salad late last night at the diner, granola bar this morning. Mrs. McCreary was about to warm me up some lasagna when I got your call.”

“You need to eat something, Nicole. Then you need to rest. I can’t offer you anything good right now, but do you have any preferences?”

Nicole was quiet for a moment. “Waves, I can’t sit up.”

“I don't expect you to. Now what do you want?”

She started listing off options and Nicole settled on sweet corn and dried beef.

“Wynonna has the regular, teriyaki, and peppered versions.”

“Second one is fine.”

Waverly got out a disposable bowl and put it on top of a plate. She selected a can of corn, picked up the manual opener from the table, pierced into the metal edge and began cranking the handle all the way around until she got the lid off. She lined the little garbage pail with a bag so she could drain out the liquid from the corn and dump it into a bowl. She shook some of the dried teriyaki beef out onto the plate at the side of the bowl, tucking a spoon into the corn. She paused, looking at the bleak meal.

Nicole was so weak and this wasn't cutting it. She got out a second bowl and peeled the metal lid off a can of peaches by its pull tab. She drained off some of the syrup, transferring the bright yellow fruit to a bowl, sticking a fork into one of the peach slices. She sanitized her hands and stuck a box of Wynonna’s cookies under her arm and carried it all to Nicole, getting on her knees on the blanket and setting everything out.

“Here, just turn your head to the side for me,” she instructed, and patiently, she fed the deputy by hand, sitting with her legs bent sideways at her knees to keep the oversized shirt from riding up too high lest she give Nicole dinner and a show.

The deputy insisted she could feed herself and Waverly insisted that she didn’t have to.

The beef was tough and Nicole struggled through it, chewing slowly and swallowing down the dry meat. Waverly would pause to give Nicole a sip of water every few bites, cupping under her chin. The corn went down much easier, Waverly shaking her head indulgently at how Nicole seemed reluctant to fully open her mouth at every spoonful.

“Is it so bad having someone take care of you?" she asked. "Aren’t you used to being fed?”

Nicole dropped her head down, a shameful blush blooming down her neck and across her shoulders. “Gosh, Waves. Not like this. This is the worst.”

“Being fed by me is the worst?”

Nicole muffled a groan into the floor, then said, “I’m sorry.” 

“It's okay. I get it, it’s not easy to be vulnerable, to let people see you the opposite of how you see yourself, but if anyone has to see you this way, I’d like it to be me. I don’t mind looking after you, Nicole. In fact, I’m happy to do it for as long as you need.” When Nicole didn’t say anything, Waverly put the spoon down and continued stroking into her hair, working her fingers through the soft strands.

She bent closer, like they weren’t the only two people in this room and she whispered, “Do you have any idea what you mean to me?” She laid her hands on either side of Nicole’s shoulders on the blanketed ground, hovering over her, and Waverly pushed her bandaged forehead and her face into the thick of Nicole's hair at the back of her head, heart aching dully as Nicole shut down on her. “I care so much about you, Nicole. After everything, please let me do this."

Waverly peeked over to the other side of Nicole’s face and could see her fighting off a shy smile at what she was hearing. “Don’t be so embarrassed. It’s just us."

The deputy sighed. “Fine, guess I can go through the hardship of letting a pretty girl fawn all over me.”

Waverly laughed her relief, pulling back. “Poor baby.”

“Don’t make me regret this,” Nicole said and tipped her chin up for another mouthful.

Waverly hummed and picked up the spoon to continue, relaxing as Nicole seemed more interested in eating when she made it to the peaches, finishing those off easily. Waverly broke into the pack of chocolate chip cookies, but Nicole only had three of them, and on the last one, she turned her face into Waverly’s hand, a puppyish push into her soft palm to say thank you.

Waverly got up, threw away the dishes and moved the folded blanket from Nicole's back to act as a makeshift pillow under her head and chest. She removed the hot pack and switched to cold therapy like the first aid booklet advised, extracting a cold pack from the medical kit and squeezing to get it activated. She put it where she’d earlier placed the hot one and Nicole thanked her in words.

Waverly pulled the third and last blanket out of the laundry bag, clicked off the lantern and laid down next to Nicole, covering the both of them, reclaiming the hot pack and resting it against her chest. The ground was hard, but Waverly had no complaints as she laid on her back, head on one of her arms.

Nicole had fallen asleep easily once more and Waverly remained awake, listening to radio updates filtering into her ears from time to time:

_“…series of lightning strikes setting off fires and power surges in town, heavy winds damaging transmission lines, causing extensive electrical problems and power outages in a number of residential neighborhoods…”_

_"...crews, local firefighters, and EMS organizing with police officers for a big day ahead of clearing roads, electrical hazards, checking on residents in their homes and shelters, and unblocking highway exits to allow people back into town once the storm passes and it is safe to do so..."_

_"...please be careful as you exit your homes and shelters when the all clear is given, wear boots if you see debris, assume all fallen power lines are active and remain a minimum of forty feet away..."_

The crucial bits of information resonated, but there was nothing she could do until the morning, more invested in moving the cold pack in twenty-minute intervals across the expanse of Nicole’s back to ease the bruising, aching and cramping.

She got up around two am to relieve her bladder and thanked god the deputy slumbered through it.

She ate two granola bars, some trail mix, pilfered one of Wynonna’s sodas and stood in the middle of the small candlelit room in Nicole’s shirt and some warm socks, staring at the rise and fall of the deputy’s shoulders beneath the blanket, hearing her deep, even breathing. Nicole was warm and full and resting.

Waverly was stunned. It struck her right then, a clear realization that not today and not tomorrow, but eventually, she was going to lay down in a real bed with Nicole Haught and she was going to take her for endless hours between her legs.

Her Casanova had made it to Purgatory after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Waverly woke up under the covers with Nicole still sleeping soundly next to her. Her hot pack had lost its heat, so shoving it aside, she sat up, covering her mouth as she yawned.

She had woken Nicole around six in the morning to give her a second dose of pain relievers, massage her back again and administer another round of hot and cold therapy. She was going to have to restock her first aid kits and she had so many things to add to her storm cellar now that she knew better. Like clothes and boots and a mattress pad, to start. She could finally feel all the aches and pains of her joints and muscles after just a few hours of sleep, like her body needed rest before it could feel the full force of everything she’d gone through.

_“…good morning folks, it’s 9:05 AM, the sun is out and the storm has passed. If you hadn’t heard already, it’s safe to come out of your shelters. The fire department along with countless volunteers are tirelessly aiding in the clearing and removal of large road obstructions. Highway exits and bridges in and out of Purgatory that had been rerouted by local law enforcement for safe passage have been unblocked, and crews of technicians were dispatched in the early hours to repair downed telephone lines and cell towers. Electrical power should be restored efficiently to most residents, some within hours, some within days…”_

“Hey,” Nicole rasped next to her. “Hear that? We’re clear.”

“Yeah, are you ready to try getting up or should I go ahead and come back for you in a bit?”

“I need to get up,” Nicole said. She rolled on the floor from side to side for a moment and Waverly got up on her knees to try and assist, but Nicole turned onto her left and used arm strength to push herself into a sitting position with a soft grunt.

“Okay, let’s go slow,” Waverly said, standing in front of Nicole and offering her hands. Nicole took them, allowing Waverly to help her onto her knees, hands sliding up Waverly's forearms with Waverly's hands cupping under her elbows, holding strong. Bent up on her right knee, with one foot flat on the ground, Nicole heaved upwards into standing and froze there, grip going tight. Waverly's heart wobbled for the pain radiating off of Nicole.

Her legs were shaky and she was relegated to taking small steps forward, but she was able to stand on her own while Waverly blew out the candles, turned off the radio, and put the spare keys in the chest pocket of her shirt along with Nicole's cell phone.

She helped Nicole get her boots on, crouching in front of her and guiding her feet inside each one. It was hard not to smile up at the groggy deputy holding onto the railing in just her undershirt, briefs and boots. Waverly pulled on her own still wet boots and ran up the steps to unlatch the two bolts and push the doors up and out. The morning that greeted her was warm and the sky looked cheery like it hadn’t just been throwing a tantrum.

She returned down, and with Nicole’s right arm draped across her shoulders, her own arm circling Nicole's waist, wary about adding pressure to the area, the pair took their time up the steps and went slow across the yard. On the way to the house, Waverly could see that someone’s lawnmower had been pitched into the barn roof.

There was some debris around, large branches, thin planks of wood, blown about roof shingles from their damaged barn, a silver rod that Waverly didn't recognize, lots of leaves, random bits and pieces of metal or plastic that the wind had littered about, and the rusty weathervane that nearly took Nicole out the night before was still speared into the dirt.

The benefits of the homestead being so far away from other houses and way up the road was that there was not much to blow their way from surrounding neighbors. It could have been so much worse. She wondered about the lawnmower though as she made it to the back door. Their kitchen window was cracked, a flat piece of stone laying on the ground the likely culprit.

Waverly unlocked the door, leading Nicole inside to see everything was as she’d left it. She kicked off her boots and removed her ruined socks and bent to help Nicole do the same.

“Uh, Waves.” Nicole cleared her throat. “I been holding my bladder for a while. Would you mind helping me up the stairs? Just to the door?”

“Of course,” Waverly agreed, moving them through the house. Nicole gripped the banister tightly as they walked up and Waverly brought her right to the door as requested before she let go.

“Thanks,” Nicole murmured. “Would have been a nightmare trying to hover over that bucket.”

Waverly was dismayed to hear that. She would have helped Nicole, no qualms about it, but the endeavor would have put unbearable pressure on Nicole’s back. She hoped the deputy hadn’t been suffering too long to get to a proper bathroom.

While Nicole relieved herself, Waverly went into her room to make sure it was presentable, lifting the bra off her closet door’s hook and moving it out of sight, straightening her dresser to look a little nicer, removing the books off her bed and stacking them on her nightstand. She ran a hand over her crinkled blue bedsheets, smoothing them out and fluffing her pillows.

When she heard the toilet flush, she went back out into the hall and waited until the sink stopped running and the door opened.

“Water’s working,” Nicole said as she emerged, leaning heavily against the doorjamb and Waverly could see the beginnings of sweat at her temple. “While I’m still standing, think you got a spare toothbrush?”

“We do,” Waverly said, walking to the hall closet between the bathroom and Wynonna’s room and pulling it open. She found a twin-pack of brushes on a shelf behind rolls of toilet paper and cleaning supplies. She pushed a red and white toothbrush out of its perforated packaging and offered it to Nicole, who took it, then reappeared a few minutes later looking worse for wear, visibly overexerted.

Waverly guided her into her room, no way she was letting Nicole walk back downstairs, and she helped her lay down in her bed.

Nicole seemed to find comfort on the left side of the mattress curled into the fetal position and Waverly went to her gray-painted wooden dresser, pulling open a drawer and taking out a pair of socks to put on Nicole’s feet. She covered her with the thick comforter she kept at the end of her bed, then sat at the edge and rubbed down Nicole’s shoulder.

“In a few hours you’ll need another dose of pain relievers, rest until then and I’ll wake you up with lunch. I need a shower, then I’ll get some chores done, is there anything you’d like before I go?”

Nicole smiled tiredly. “No, Waves. Go take care of yourself. I feel like I could sleep for days. But if my cell service comes back on, I do need to call the station.”

Waverly pulled the cell phone out of her shirt pocket and turned it on. Service was still out. “Here,” she said, leaving Nicole’s phone on the nightstand. “All right. You can yell out my bedroom window for me later if I’m not in the house.”

Nicole chuckled. “I’ll be fine. I can get around if necessary.”

“Okay, I’ll be back.”

Waverly got her things together, a pair of undergarments, a change of clothes, her towel, body lotion, face cream and deodorant, disappearing into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and unraveled her bandages before she took a hot soapy shower, careful around the gash on her forehead as she was shampooing and conditioning her hair, and it made all the difference.

After redressing her head wound and her hand, she put her things away, and finding Nicole asleep again, she quietly descended the stairs, making her way into the kitchen. She checked the fridge first to find it was still running and supposed most of the electrical problems were occurring in town then.

She looked to see what she could cook. Nicole seemed to have a preference for lean poultry, often ordering chicken salads or turkey wraps and sandwiches, so she opted to pull out a tray of chicken breast from the freezer, leaving it to defrost in some cool water.

She cleaned and wiped down the kitchen counter, put on an apron, tying it off at her waist, washed her hands awkwardly around her bandage, pausing in contemplation over her bruised hand before deciding to pull on a food-safe disposable glove over it. She brought out a large mixing bowl, an airtight container of all purpose flour, a stick of butter, a jar of shortening, and salt. She set down a dish of ice water and began measuring out two and a half cups of flour for a pie dough.

She wanted to make the deputy something comforting and hearty to eat, something with meat and potatoes, savory and creamy, with a palatable medley of vegetables, all wrapped up in a flaky, almost biscuity outer shell, and she had everything to make her Momma’s chicken pot pie so that’s what she was going to do.

Once she had her ingredients together, the cold butter mixed into the flour to the point of small crumbles, she dusted her hands and her countertop with more flour, turning out the dough onto the surface and patting it all together, cutting down the middle and shaping the halves into tightly packed circles. She covered them in cling wrap, putting the two discs on a shelf in the fridge to chill and she cleaned after herself, tossing out her glove and removing her apron.

She headed out the back door shortly after, taking both her and Nicole’s boots with her into the yard to hose the mud off them. She had to return upstairs to search out a handheld scrub brush from inside the storage closet to get Nicole’s tactical boots presentable again and she left both pairs of footwear under the sun to air-dry.

She found herself back in the storm cellar, organizing the cluttered room, sorting out the trash they’d accumulated down there, making multiple trips back and forth to take the garbage out to the bins that were chained to the back of the house, then another trip to stuff all the blankets into the laundry bag they’d come in and carry them up with the bag of wet clothes, pausing at the rear entry to collect the two pairs of damp socks she’d abandoned there.

She took everything to the laundry room and loaded each item one-by-one into the wash, pausing to check pockets for stray items. She unpinned the metal name pin that read _Haught_ off of Nicole’s shirt and found a folded piece of white paper in the chest pocket that she had not noticed the night before, but she felt no desire to read something that was not meant for her.

From the front pockets of Nicole’s uniform pants, she removed a thin leather wallet, a pack of gum, a tube of Chapstick, a pen, some spare change and a key-bunch that made her brows raise to learn that Nicole owned the remote key fob to a Jeep of her own, so used to seeing the deputy getting around in her department-issued cruiser that it hadn’t occurred to her that Nicole had a personal vehicle as well, then in Nicole’s back pocket she pulled out a plain navy blue handkerchief, adding that to the wash as well.

She returned to the cellar to carry Nicole’s unexpectedly heavy gear up and she stood over the kitchen table, wiping any visible dirt and mud spots off of it. She draped the tactical belt in a pile on the coffee table in the living room next to Nicole’s radio handset with the collection of things from all her pockets.

She picked up the landline telephone every hour or so, holding the receiver to her ear to listen for a dial tone, but the lines were still down. With no car to serve as a means for transportation into town for the moment, she continued to do the things she could.

She switched the clothes into the dryer and loaded the blankets for the next wash, and when their clothes were dry, she folded her own ones and set them aside, then took down the ironing board in the laundry room. She laid out Nicole’s police shirt and steam pressed all the wrinkles out until it looked as neat and stiff as Nicole often wore it.

The label on the weatherproof uniform pants advised against ironing, so Waverly went to the coat closet, pulled out two sturdy hangers, folded the pants evenly over a hanger bar, the clean handkerchief returned where she found it, with the white cotton t-shirt laid over the pants. She draped Nicole’s police shirt over the hanger shoulders, and on a second one, she hung Nicole’s heavy-duty patrol jacket, tucking her black gloves into one pocket, and her clean socks in the other.

She took the two hangers upstairs and hooked them on the door of her bedroom closet and looked over the sleeping form in her bed. The little clock on her nightstand read that it was almost eleven am. She checked Nicole’s cell phone and still saw no service.

She returned to the kitchen soon after and sat down to eat a serving of leftover lentil-based meatloaf and a microgreen salad. She had a cup of herbal tea to relax herself, standing at the front porch and looking out into the distance towards the road. She washed her mug afterwards and checked on the chicken. Finding it defrosted, she hung her apron around her neck again, tying it off and pulled on two disposable gloves since she was handling meat. She worked past the sting of her knuckles to grip her knife-handle and cut the raw chicken into cubes, losing herself in the rhythm of a memory.

To many afternoons spent sat on this very kitchen counter, a tiny thing with chubby cheeks, adorable smiles with missing teeth, poorly cut bangs, and often outfitted in white and pink, her favorite colors. She'd be swaddled in thick dresses paired with little pants to keep her bottom warm. Her short legs would kick back and forth, the heels of her baby-small bare feet tapping the tops of the cupboards while she watched her Momma make this recipe along with many others, listening to her go on and on, passionately and with an authority only parents ever seem to have. Waverly was mesmerized by her mother's brains and beauty, her strength and patience.

Michelle Gibson looked something powerful in a kitchen, waving her long wooden spoon like a teacher would a ruler at Waverly, and she preached bits of wisdom, insisting butter and shortening were crucial to pie dough if you wanted it just right, and it was always the smallest things in all the chaos that Waverly remembered about her mother. Like how after Daddy’s fists rained down on every one of them, her mother retreated to the kitchen like it was a sanctuary, or maybe it was an arsenal.

Waverly was always trailing Michelle, one fist forever bunched into the soft material of her Momma’s housedress, never letting up her strong little grip, because being near Momma kept her out of reach from Willa’s mean steak, and from Wynonna, who hung off Willa's every word, always admiration in her eyes for her big sister. But Momma especially kept Waverly safe from Daddy’s loud, angry voice that never failed to stir anxiety in her small chest and bring tears to her hazel eyes and she could never understand why he made her cry so much.

She’d often find herself hidden in a dark crawl space or climbing up to a high place, wailing her lungs out for Michelle when he’d chase her around the house with his belt. Daddy taught her to run from every noise, every curse, every mumble. One particularly bad night, Ward got so drunk, he’d sloppily begun unholstering his service weapon because Waverly was too high up in the rafters of the barn, naked foot bottoms collecting splinters as she hopped back and forth across the wooden beams, red-faced and runny-nosed from his barrage of threats to shoot up around her feet if she didn’t come down.

Willa had intervened in a rage, all of thirteen years and picking up a metal snow shovel to slam into their Daddy’s back, his gun flying as he turned his cruelty onto his oldest daughter, and even if Willa was cold and tough, Waverly knew there was love for her in that long-abused heart.

Had laid her little head on Willa's shoulder crying after Daddy left her on the floor in a groaning pile, telling Waverly to look at what she'd caused, and Willa rarely reached for her with good intention, but that night, she held Waverly close, forehead to forehead, ruffling her brown hair, said she'd been beaten far worse for a lot less and she could take it. She let Waverly keep babying her though, patting her cheeks and kissing her teary green eyes, like Willa had desperately needed a little respite even if she was the eldest one, maybe especially because she was the eldest one.

Wynonna hadn't ever turned to stone like Willa, she remained steadfast, intercepting the beatings, couldn’t quite fight back at ten years old, yelling, “Run, you dumb baby, go!” with all the resentment of an exhausted child not understanding why she had to protect her baby sister so often, but doing it regardless because the alternative seemed worse.

Waverly didn’t know how to not get into trouble. If Ward would wander into the room she was in, she’d go quiet and make herself small, hug Mr. Plumpkins and turn her eyes down to the floor, but just breathing seemed enough to set him off. And when she learned to hold her breath, not breathing could set him off, too.

“What are you so scared of me for,” he’d ask kindly. “Ain’t I your Daddy?” He’d lunge for her and laugh when she’d speed away on racing little legs. 

The only relief was that Ward never followed his wife into the kitchen, knew it was the one place Michelle had all the tools to fight back. Waverly learned it for herself the evening her Daddy came in through the back door and her Momma had been breaking down a whole chicken with a chopper, deadly, loud strikes of the cleaver splintering through bone and joints, connecting hard with the cutting board.

A look of unease passed over her father’s face and he hastened his way to the living room, didn’t even stop for his can of beer.

Michelle smiled at Waverly like they had a secret and she leaned over her, a towering maternal figure over the smallest of all her daughters, and she kissed her on the forehead, brushing their noses together, calling Waverly her baby, her darling, her angel, “My baby darling angel, my pretty, pretty girl," cooing the way only a mother can.

She was seven when her Momma left, and Michelle took Waverly’s whole soul out the door with her.

Waverly collected all the forgotten things and hid them in her heart or her jewel box. Gathered up all the memories and hoped to share them one day, the good things, because even in their broken home, there were good, innocent, untakeable things, loves that disappeared into the dark one night, but lived on in a young girl’s hopeful spaces, to be brought out from time to time, inspected, and sometimes, shared with someone worthy.

It was at nineteen years old that Waverly and Champ made the big jump together. Aunt Gus let her tend bar at Shorty’s Saloon, part owner with Shorty himself, and though they didn’t pay her for the first year, they let her live above the bar rent-free, and more importantly, she was allowed to keep her tips.

She’d been with Champ since she was sixteen and he was eager to move out of his parent’s house, take a step into being a man like she’d taken to being a woman. Soon as Waverly told him she was going to live above the bar, he’d started dropping hints.

Waverly didn’t mind, didn’t want to be alone up there so she’d invited him to stay, thinking the best time of her life was just beginning, enrolled in her courses online, working a job where she’d figured out that if she wore higher heels and shorter skirts, applied a sensual, but subtle layer of makeup, and put on one of those pushup bras Stephanie had gifted her for their pageants, she could make the kinds of tips that added up to a salary all its own. 

In the weeks after Champ moved in, Waverly started to see him differently, started sowing the seeds of her dreams in him after waking up to his eager eyes and dopey smile.

She'd lay in his arms and think to herself, if he could make a steady income at the rodeo, living his own dreams, and she could land a decent job herself, one day they could start a family together and maybe they could get it right.

She knew he was a bit of a dullard, but she didn't see anything wrong in that because he’d never so much as raised his voice at her, and the time he’d overheard Stephanie calling her stupid when the other girl thought no one was around, he’d started making a point of never letting Waverly say a bad word about herself. Would tell her how smart she was, even if he seemed confused about it. “Don’t know how you’re so pretty and so smart,” he’d say sometimes, like he genuinely couldn’t understand. Waverly forgave him his faults. He wasn't perfect, but he was good-natured. He had dreams, too and talked about her in all of them.

After almost a month of living together, after Waverly having only cooked simple meals, short on time and energy, forced to turn to pastas and foods she could sear or stir-fry for ten minutes in a pan with some vegetables, she started to feel that memory of her Momma, a powerful woman in a kitchen, follow her around like a shadow.

She finally gave into it, wanted to share it with the most special person in her life. She drove that afternoon to Aunt Gus’s ranch with a bagful of groceries and asked for guidance. Her aunt was delighted to give her direction, poured her heart into the culinary lesson same as Waverly. Sounded almost like Michelle if Waverly closed her eyes long enough.

Stood in Gus’s kitchen, then days later in her own, lighting up the gas range, hearing the loud click, click, click before the burner's flame flared up, turning the knob to medium-high heat and setting down a saucepan filled with cut up chicken breast, thin circle slices of carrots and half-moons of celery, pouring over cool water and leaving it to boil while she pulled out a second pan.

Melting butter in the deep skillet. Tossing in diced onions, a cubed Yukon Gold potato, minced cloves of garlic and sliced baby Bella mushrooms, stirring together the beginnings of a thick luxurious gravy. Waverly’s concentrated time spent whisking in flour, pouring in fragrant homemade chicken stock and heavy cream, adding pinches of sea salt and celery seed, grating in coarse black pepper, pulling the tiny leaves off fresh sprigs of thyme, chopping a little rosemary and parsley, letting it all simmer down, asking Gus to check the seasoning because she had just turned to veganism and was quite strict about it.

She’d painstakingly written the recipe down as they’d gone through it and left the practice pie for Uncle Curtis. It was his favorite dish, after all, and armed with a pie dish gifted to her by Aunt Gus, she’d gone home excited to surprise Champ, had told him they’d be celebrating their one-month anniversary of living together with a special night in.

He’d been excited when she’d told him, said he was bringing her flowers, and hearing that, Waverly convinced Shorty who was like an uncle to her, to let her have a fancy bottle of red wine. For the occasion, she’d argued, and she’d lit too many candles, set up a playlist with so many carefully pre-selected songs, and waited deep into the night, in her delicate floral pink belted dress, wearing the only pair of diamond earrings she owned, an elegant gold necklace with a ruby teardrop laid over her heart and two long wraparound rings on her fingers.

The waning hours had left her draped along the armrest of their second-hand couch, slowly finishing half the bottle of wine all on her own, the first time she ever drank, wary of alcohol after what she’d seen it do to Ward and Wynonna, alike.

Her texts went unanswered, her calls missed nearly to midnight, and forty minutes after eleven, Champ phoned her, saying he was at Peter York’s house and he’d made it to the highest level on one of their video games. Said he was coming home, had the decency to apologize for getting so caught up, promised he had the flowers, said there were leftover cookies that Peter’s mom had made and he was bringing them for dessert.

Waverly had dropped the phone on the cushion at her side, the first crinkle in the beginnings of her dreams, confused about how the night had gone so differently from her meticulous planning, all of the anger and frustration that had been steadily building up the longer she waited on him suddenly pulsing outwards from the center of her chest.

She’d gotten up in a fit, picked up the pie dish, jammed her dainty stockinged foot down onto the pedal of the garbage can, launching the lid up and she stood there with inconsolable rage inside of her, the dish held overhead for a dramatic pitch into the bin, and it would have been so satisfying to throw it away. He could eat it like a dog from the trash if he wanted, she’d been so fuming, and that singular thought scared her so bad she stopped herself.

Still doesn’t know to this day how she stopped herself with the intensity that filled her, but she told herself to be rational, took a step back and thought about Champ coming home and inattentively digesting the best memory of her mother, what little bit she had left.

A wave of despair washed over her, and she covered the dish with aluminum foil, placed it carefully into a grocery bag and carried it downstairs where her aunt was working the night shift, a favor so Waverly could have the time off to spend with her boyfriend. She quietly asked her to please share the pie with Uncle Curtis.

Gus looked at her with sympathy, and trying to salvage the night, she suggested it could be warmed in the oven when Champ got home, to avoid all her efforts going to waste.

The anger bubbled over and Waverly threw her arms outward and said very spitefully, “I don’t want him to have it! It doesn't matter! It was a dumb idea anyway!"

Aunt Gus stared at her with wide eyes, “Oh girl, come here,” she had said. The handful of patrons that were sitting around, that witnessed Waverly’s outburst fell silent, and Waverly had gone upstairs feeling like a foolish little girl.

She fell in and out of a restless sleep, all dolled up, curled into a ball on her side of the bed, and when Champ came home to burnt out candles, empty plates and silence, she heard him looking around for dinner, his stomach grumbling, and good, she’d thought bitterly as he seemed to understand just how badly he’d messed up.

He’d climbed into bed behind her, smelling heavily of his too-strong cologne, the one he kept in his truck, and he hugged her stiff body, asked over and over for forgiveness, ceaselessly murmuring how sorry he was in her ear. She had reached back to pat his arm, told him it was fine, and let him hold her. She figured one mistake wasn’t worth holding over him. It was a small thing anyway. A dumb thing, really.

He fell asleep, head against her back and she had swiped away the stupid hot tears burning down her eyes, an idiot girl who tried to give herself away, those precious memories turning to nothing, feeling like nothing, just an empty space in a hollowed-out chest.

She continued to cook simple things for him after that, pan-seared steaks, chicken cutlets or breaded fish fillets. Minimal seasoning, in and out of a frying pan in minutes. Always an easy salad or limp vegetables to go along. She didn’t need to give him the woman in her kitchen, the vision she held so dearly.

She tucked the recipe away in her jewel box under Willa’s ruby necklace, Momma’s diamond earrings, and Wynonna’s silver rings, mementos left behind for Waverly's safekeeping, and she didn’t think about it again until years later. Wynonna came home and Waverly gave into a siren song and made it the week after she and her sister had officially moved into the homestead together.

They’d had an emotional, whiskey-induced cry by a toasty bonfire about everything and Waverly cooked it the next day for supper. Wynonna had tucked into the warm pot pie, closed her eyes, and lost herself for a minute, said it tasted just like Momma’s. Put in a request for Waverly to make them at least once a month. Promised she'd keep the fridge stocked for it.

She decided she could do that, could make it for her sister from then on, a slice of their mother they could both hold onto, and Willa always used to fight everyone for the last piece, not even Daddy got in her way at the dinner table. In fact, he would sip his beer and smile at his two rowdy daughters and Waverly could be at ease sat next to Momma, being fed and doted on, a strong thumb swiping over her mouth and chin to wipe it clean.

Now Nicole Haught was laying up in her bed and Waverly couldn’t think of someone who might appreciate the dish more.

Nicole, who was enamored by food and women alike. Put those two things together and the deputy was a goner.

Waverly blew gently over a spoonful of gravy from the simmering skillet, tasting for seasoning. She wasn’t so strict anymore that she couldn’t make sure her recipes were coming out right. Half of cooking, she had learned, was tasting as she went, and this one mattered to her. She added another pinch of salt, wiping her hands off on a dish towel and smiling at the results of her labor.

She rolled out the pie crust, transferring it carefully over the glass pie plate, pushing it down gently into the deep round dish, scissoring off the excess dough with her kitchen shears. She spooned in her cubed and cooked chicken breast with the carrots and celery, topped it with a handful of frozen peas, ladled over her savory gravy with mushrooms and potatoes, rolled out her second pie crust, laying it over the top, and cutting off the excess there as well, crimping the edges neatly.

She took a sharp knife and cut several small slits for the steam to escape, beat together an egg-wash, and using a pastry brush, she painted the crust and edges yellow. She used foil to cover around those sensitive edges, a makeshift pie shield to keep the outer crust from burning while the middle took its time to cook, and she slid it into the preheated oven.

By then the blankets had finished washing and drying and she put them into the laundry bag Gus had given her, along with two warm sets of clothing and towels, one for her future self, the other for Wynonna. She dug out two old pairs of her and her sister’s boots from the coat closet, put them into a large shopping bag and carried it all down into the storm cellar before shutting the doors behind her for the day. She’d buy a new chain and padlock later. Perhaps one with a combination this go around.

She cleared away some of the debris from around their property until her oven timer went off, calling her back inside. She pulled off the work gloves she’d been wearing and washed her hands, and around her bandage, grabbed her Niagara Falls oven mitts and pulled the pot pie out of the oven, setting it down on the counter.

She admired its symmetry, its rich golden-brown color as she pulled off her mitts, and though she would not be eating it, she was proud she’d learned to make it because their house smelled of home again on days like this. Wynonna would always get so excited, dig a spoon into it too quick and burn her mouth every time, helpless to consume a pleasant thing from a crumbled childhood.

The steps creaked and Waverly jolted around, tossing her ovenproof mitts onto the countertop, rushing into the living room to find Nicole was slowly making her way down the staircase, one hand splayed against the wall, the other gripping the railing as she descended.

“Nicole!” she scolded, hurrying over and meeting her by the landing. “What are you doing?”

Nicole grinned sheepishly. “Smelled something mouthwatering and had to come investigate, one of my many duties as a Sheriff’s deputy, you know.”

Waverly rolled her eyes and took Nicole’s hands in hers, guiding and supportive as she walked backwards, leading Nicole to the kitchen table and helping her into the closest chair at the end.

“You’ll have to wait. It needs to rest a few more minutes,” Waverly said sternly, refusing to cut into the pie too early, wanting to let the flavors fully meld so the gravy could set and thicken up.

“Definitely worth the wait,” Nicole replied. “God, that aroma, Waves. Reminds me of my grams, it smells just like her house in here. Woke up and didn’t know where I was for a second. Is that a chicken pot pie?”

Waverly smiled, pouring out a tall glass of cold water from the pitcher they kept in the fridge, bringing it to Nicole. She could understand why Nicole remained in her briefs and undershirt even though Waverly left a change of clothes for her on the end of the bed. It was warm and sunny outside and the oven working added to it. “You guessed right. It is a pot pie.”

Nicole’s brow furrowed as she took a sip of water. “So, I noticed you washed my uniform, pressed my shirt, brought in all my gear, and now you’ve gone to the trouble of preparing me a homecooked meal?”

“I also washed your work boots, they’re out drying in the sun, I hope that’s okay.”

"You hope that's okay?" Nicole said incredulously. She started looking around, hands patting her chest, then her upper thighs, like she was feeling pockets.

Waverly frowned. “What are you doing, Nicole?”

The deputy met her gaze, all brown eyes and charming smile. “Trying to find that ring you deserve for all this effort. I swear, Waverly Earp, if you’d have me, I’d marry you this second.”

Waverly’s whole face lit up, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled, inching closer, one hand sliding up Nicole’s chairback as she looked down at the deputy. “Officer Haught, has no one ever warned you to hush that silver-tongue of yours?”

Nicole’s smile widened into a grin. “You’re welcome to try.”

Waverly slid her hand from the curve of the chairback into Nicole’s sleep-mussed hair and very gently tipped her head back so she could look down at Nicole’s face, gazing over the cotton gauze on one side, and into her eyes, finding amusement staring back at her.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Waverly said, tapping the tip of Nicole’s nose with her other hand. “You know what I’d like?”

“Would love to know.”

“I'd like for you to take it easy, eat something substantial, and rest so you can heal nice and quick.” Waverly let her hand slip from Nicole’s hair and she walked over to the kitchen counter, opening a drawer for a knife and a triangular spatula. She took a plate down from the cupboard above her and served up a slice of the chicken pie. “Faster you do that,” she said, bringing the plate and setting it in front of the deputy. “Faster you can get down on those knees of yours.”

Surprise filtered over Nicole’s face. “You-you mean my knee for you?” she corrected. “To propose?”

Waverly nodded. “Mhm.” Nicole relaxed as Waverly turned her back to seek out a fork from the utensil drawer. “That too," she murmured.

She returned, holding the handle out to Nicole, who accepted it with a thank you, shifting her attention to her lunch. She scraped the top of the flaky crust with the tines of her fork, paused for a second, then broke into it, scooping up a hefty forkful, blowing the steam away and sliding it into her mouth. She sighed as she chewed, closing her eyes, and when she swallowed, she rubbed the nape of her neck with her left hand. "Did you make this crust from scratch?”

“I did.” When Nicole didn’t speak for a minute, Waverly noticed her strange expression. “What's wrong?”

“You cook beautifully, that’s all.” She slid another forkful into her mouth, swallowed and said, “I’m gonna eat half this whole pie. You can't stop me.”

Waverly smiled. “Nicole, it’s all for you, silly." She gestured towards the dish with her hand. "I made it for you.”

Nicole looked at her with unexpected tenderness, then pushed up from her chair, wincing as she stood and Waverly came forward, put her hands up to try and stop Nicole, but it was too late, Nicole was standing and gathering her hands. She brought them up and pressed a chaste kiss to Waverly’s bruised knuckles over her bandage, turned Waverly’s other hand over and kissed into her palm, and Waverly felt the intimacy of such a thing.

“You cook beautifully,” Nicole said again. “Thank you for all of this, the back massages, washing my things, and this meal. God, you don’t know this about me, Waverly, but growing up I kind of lived off a lot of processed stuff, prepackaged dinners my parents would leave in the fridge that I could prepare myself. Always unsettled my stomach as a kid after too many of those kinds of days and I was so scrawny ‘cause I just wouldn’t want to eat, so it makes me feel something special when a woman wastes time on me. I’ve seen my grandmother make many meals like this one here, seen the love and effort gone into it. Please invite me to your kitchen table as often as you like. I’ll cherish these hands every single time, and if you get sick of me, you just show me the door, okay?”

Waverly’s heart had caved in somewhere along the way.

“Nicole, please sit down and finish your lunch. I need to take care of things upstairs.”

Nicole smiled a little regrettably and returned to her chair with some help. Waverly left a bottle of Motrin Ibuprofen pills next to the deputy’s glass of water, reminded her to take two, that she would come back downstairs in ten minutes to give Nicole another massage and her hot and cold therapy. Anything to keep Nicole’s back as comfortable as it could be until the phones came back or someone checked on them so they could get proper medical care.

Waverly walked up the stairs with a heavy lump in her throat and she made her way into her room where she stopped at the sight of Nicole’s uniform hanging at front of her closet. She went to it, picked up the sleeve of her patrol jacket with one hand and ran her fingers over the metal name pin on the police shirt with her other.

She dropped her face into the chest of the sturdy material and cried for the vision of the woman in her kitchen. "Oh Momma," she said tearfully. "I swore on your wedding dress I'd never fall for a lawman."

Waverly turned her cheek into the jacket, tugging the zipper. "Where in the world did you come from?"


	10. Chapter 10

Nicole was laid out on the sofa after Waverly had filled a light blue polka dotted icepack to put on her lower back. She was draping a soft burgundy duvet over the deputy when a car engine revving and roaring up the road ripped into the quiet that hung over the homestead.

“Damn,” Nicole muttered. “Left my citation holder in Nedley’s Chevy. Can’t even write a speeding ticket.”

“Nicole!” Waverly said, turning around. “That’s probably Wynonna!”

“The law knows neither friend nor foe.”

“The law can stay on this couch then,” Waverly said back, earning a laugh as she rushed towards the front door, flinging it open.

She jogged down the porch steps and ran out a few yards to see Dolls’ black SUV speed into a turn, pulling to a sudden stop and Wynonna came tumbling out of the passenger seat, eyes looking wildly over her little sister’s form, cataloguing the white bandage wrapped around her head and the one on her hand.

Watery blue eyes met hers in pure agony. Wynonna ran at full speed, cell phone in one hand, large brown purse in the other and both items hit the ground as they collided in a hug, Wynonna lifting her right up against her chest. “Waverly! I thought, god, you don’t know what I thought!”

Waverly clung to her big sister, hands clutching in the thick mane of her hair, pressing her cheek against a slight leather-clad shoulder. She inhaled deeply and the smell of her sister had her breaking out into tears. “It was terrible, Wynonna!” she sobbed. "I never felt so scared in my life!"

Wynonna pulled back, held her face in her hands. “When you didn’t reply and service went out, we tried to get back, but the exits were already blocked off. Then we heard the tornado sirens going off in town all the way from the motel by the highway, and I panicked, babygirl, I kept telling myself that you were okay, that you were busy and didn’t see my messages before service went down, that you were in the cellar, fine and dandy.” Wynonna blinked rapidly, tears leaking down her eyes in a steady stream.

“But then we saw your Jeep turned over on its side in the fields, and my heart stopped. Fuck, just come here a second." Wynonna hugged her again, chest heaving. “I went to see if you were still in there and I didn’t know what would be worse, finding you or not finding you. Seeing your windows all smashed through, seeing you weren’t in there, I knew it was better that I didn’t find you, and god, here you are.” Wynonna let up a little, fingers ghosting over her bandaged forehead. “Is it bad?” she asked. “Tell me what happened. Everything.”

So Waverly told her, while Dolls walked over, picking up her purse and her cellphone off the ground that they brought along from her car. He dropped the phone in her bag and reached out to grip Waverly’s right shoulder, his usually stoic gaze completely open as he listened along about the accident that rolled her into the forest, the wind gusts that blew her off-road, the hail that she thought would shatter her windshield and windows and kill her.

Dolls and Wynonna shared a look of unease when Waverly explained the BBD-issued radio left forgotten in her glovebox was the only reason she was able to call for help, and Wynonna exhaled shakily at hearing her say Nicole was in range, glanced desperately towards the house when she learned her friend was in there.

Their grips on her tightened as she relayed the frantic drive towards home, how they watched a wind funnel touch ground in front of them, how it ripped them apart and tossed them around. How Nicole led them towards low ground and shielded her body with her own.

Wynonna’s jaw clenched when she heard the intricacies of the walk home. Just a flashlight and the will to live another day.

“She’s so hurt, Wynonna!” Waverly cried, dropping the side of her head against her sister’s collarbone. “Her face is damaged and she can hardly walk after what she did for me, she could have died trying to get me to the storm cellar because I was freezing in that ditch.” Waverly shook her head from side to side as it all started to hit her again. “If it wasn’t for Nicole, you would have found me in my Jeep just now. I wasn’t able to get out with the hail that was coming down and it would have eventually gotten in and I would have just been laying there for whatever was to come my way.”

Wynonna took a deep breath, visibly swallowing. “On our drive up the road, we ran into Nedley. He was heading this way, said last time he spoke to Nicole was on the phone and she was getting ready to sit out the storm at Mrs. McCreary’s farm, he’s on his way there right now.” She looked over at Dolls. “Can you radio the Sheriff, let him know we have Nicole and she’s injured?”

“Yeah, of course, Wynonna.” Dolls tapped Waverly’s shoulder and signaled her in for a hug like he would signal any other command.

Wynonna stepped back and swiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands to let him have a little space to embrace Waverly. The Deputy-Marshal, like her sister, smelled of intense sweat, lumber, rain and dirt.

His sneakers and jean bottoms were caked in a layer of mud, same as Wynonna’s jeans and leather boots. Waverly would later learn that on the drive up, Dolls and Wynonna would get out of the SUV over and over again, arms quivering as the pair assisted crews clearing the roads, often trudging through deep pits of mud or dirty floodwaters mixed with sewage to do so. Both their hands were work-roughened from the morning and afternoon they had struggled through.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Earp. Had me worried for a second," he said.

Waverly smiled when he released her. Dolls lifted up her purse in offering and she accepted it from him. 

“Just a second?” she asked.

His expression went softer, looking handsome with it. He was always an attractive man. Smooth dark skin, serious set mouth, a bit of too-busy-to-shave stubble, but there was something distant about Xavier Dolls that had only recently begun to shift.

“Well, maybe more than a second,” he admitted, his one-sided smile almost shy.

“Sorry to scare you, Agent Dolls.”

“I’m just relieved you’re safe now.” He looked between the sisters. “I’ll radio Nedley and I’ll be out here, we can drive to the hospital whenever Officer Haught is ready.”

Wynonna looked at him. “Just come inside after, Dolls. You can make yourself that coffee.”

He bowed his head in answer before he climbed into the passenger seat of his SUV and picked up his radio speaker from the scanner setup in his vehicle.

Wynonna looked back at her sister and sighed. “Come on, I need to get eyes on my Ginger cop. They’re very rare, you know. Very fragile.”

Waverly nodded, and with an arm around each other, they walked up the front porch into the house.

Nicole was still laid out on her stomach, left side of her face turned outward as her head rested on her folded arms. Wynonna walked in and her hand hovered over the deputy’s lower back, taking in the gauze bandage and abrasions on her cheek.

“Nicole,” Wynonna whispered, dropping down by the deputy’s side. “Look what happened to you.” She brushed some of Nicole’s hair out of her face. “Waverly told me. How’s your back?”

“Looking pretty hopeful, I’d say. She’s been taking good care of me.”

Wynonna stroked over the top of her head. “I know you didn’t save my sister for me, but –”

“Hey.” Nicole nudged against Wynonna’s hand. “Did it for the both of us. We really missed you out there, you know. I would have loved to see your face when that twister started spinning down.”

“Stormy Jesus, I would have fucking shot at it!”

Nicole started laughing. “Waverly guessed at something like that.”

Waverly dropped her purse on the cluttered coffee table and sat herself at the edge of the armrest, hands on her thighs. She felt like she’d be happy to never let these two out of her sight again. She heard the backdoor opening and Dolls started puttering around their kitchen.

“You smell like dirt, Haught.”

After a beat. “Ditto, Earp.”

Wynonna laughed. “Come on, can you get up? Dolls told Nedley where you are and we’re all going to take a nice trip together down to Purgatory General.”

“I’ll get some clothes for you,” Waverly offered, hopping up and heading upstairs. She chose a pair of Wynonna’s black joggers and a thin gray hoody that Nicole could zip up over her undershirt.

Nicole was sitting up on the couch when she returned and Wynonna took the clothes from Waverly, crouching down and guiding Nicole’s feet into each pantleg, one by one, then she wrapped her arms around Nicole’s middle, looked almost like she was hugging her, and she stood up, standing Nicole with her.

Wynonna’s height and strength made it easier to handle the tall deputy and her sister bent down again, grabbing the tops of the joggers, pulling them all the way up Nicole’s legs. She opened out the hoody next, and while Nicole zipped it up, Waverly murmured about shoes, then said, “Her boots are still drying and I think all yours are a size too small.”

Wynonna looked around in thought. “Hold up.” She went behind the couch to where she’d left her black house slippers. “Thank the footwear gods for one size fits all,” she said, coming back and setting them down. “We’re just going to the hospital, loads of people in home clothes, it’ll be fine.”

The sisters held onto Nicole’s hands to keep her stable while she pushed her socked feet into the plush indoor shoes.

“Thanks, both of you,” Nicole said quietly, and the trio headed towards the door together, slow and steady for the deputy.

* * *

They came home past ten in the night to the sound of Dolls laughing boisterously with Nicole’s arm slung around his shoulders. She’d been telling him about one of her fishing escapades.

“…and he held his rod upright, just all the way straight up in the air, cranking his wheel backwards! Backwards! Oh man. This guy thinks he’s reeling in this thing, but he’s just letting his line out, and then he turns to me after the fish jumps off his hook, and he says, mighty tough to reel in something so big, and like a gem, a gem I tell you, Dolls, that yellow perch leapt out the lake in a slow motion arc through the air, just five inches long, like it wanted to call this man out for a final fuck you!”

“Hah!” Dolls shrieked with laughter. “Did you tell him to try cranking his handle forward?”

Nicole slapped her hand into the middle of Dolls’ broad chest. “I meant to, but I was too busy laughing about the fish jumpin' out that by the time I looked over, he was sulking and rowing his boat away.”

Dolls had tears in his eyes. “Damn, Haught, we gotta go fishing together.”

Nicole’s gestures were more exaggerated than normal as she squinted one eye at Dolls and snapped her fingers into pointing at him. “That’s a plan right there. Nedley was telling me about a spot for fishing trout about an hour’s drive from town. Said he’s caught a couple twenty-pounders when he’s been patient.”

Keeping his arm around Nicole’s waist, Dolls held her right up against his hip to equalize their weight and he sat them down together in sync before he scooted away, turning sideways and bringing his knee up on the couch to face the deputy excitedly as Nicole launched into another story, the pair of them looking like two schoolkids gossiping after class.

Waverly and Wynonna watched them from the doorway in a mix of shock and awe.

“I…I’ve never heard him laugh before. Should I be scared?” Wynonna asked.

“I didn’t know he was capable of expressing such pure joy,” Waverly replied.

The sisters headed into the kitchen together, leaving Dolls and Nicole to their strange behavior.

Wynonna was carrying in a paper bag of a few things they’d picked up at the pharmacy. A hot water bottle for Nicole’s back, a jar of salve for the welts and bruising she’d endured, a big pouch of Epsom salt and a pack of underwear Waverly was going to add into the wash so Nicole could have them for the next few days while she stayed at the homestead.

Waverly was holding onto two bags of prescription drugs and antibiotics, one for Nicole and one for herself. They’d both had to get stitches and because the cuts were on their faces, a surgeon had to be called in and it took well over an hour for the doctor to work on each of them, giving them precise and tiny sutures to ensure as minimal scarring as possible.

Waverly walked away with sixteen stitches and Nicole had gotten twenty-four, done tightly and neatly. They’d received similar advice, keep the stitches covered and dry for forty-eight hours and return the next week to have them removed.

Afterwards, Nicole went on with the nurse to get an injection of anti-inflammatories, muscle relaxers, and a dose of opioids. The cocktail of drugs made her extremely groggy and she fell asleep on the hospital gurney.

The nurse wheeled her out into the hall to let her rest and free up the exam room for another patient, and an hour later, the deputy had been taken by wheelchair to get a scan done. Nicole would have to make an appointment with her private physician and get information on a physical therapist in the morning.

Still drowsy after they’d left the hospital, Nicole had fallen asleep again in the car, relaxed in the passenger seat next to Dolls, and when Waverly and Wynonna returned from inside the pharmacy, it was to find a very animated Nicole engrossed in conversation with Dolls, who was leaned in, hanging off her every word like they’d been old pals and hadn’t known it until that night.

Wynonna set the drugstore bag down on the kitchen table. Her sister’s interest was piqued at the covered dish and she walked over to the counter, pulling the foil up and staring at the half-eaten pie.

She looked at Waverly. “You made Nicole Momma’s chicken pot pie?”

Waverly dropped the prescription drugs on the table and crossed her arms, facing her sister. “Yes.”

A hint of something passed through Wynonna’s eyes and a slow smile emerged over her face. “Cool.”

Waverly chuckled, looking down and away, crossing her arms tighter. “Yeah.”

Wynonna pulled out her cell phone for what had to have been the hundredth time that day. Her posture slouched in relief. “About time, service is back on.” She shoved her phone into her pocket and rubbed at her temples. She smiled tiredly at Waverly.

“It’s been a day, huh? Christ, come here,” she said, walking over and pulling Waverly’s crossed arms apart, nearly dragging her smaller sister into a hug. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“I love you, too, Nonna.”

“Wow.” Wynonna pressed a long kiss into her hair, her voice sounding heavy. “You hardly call me that anymore. It was –”

“Willa’s thing?” Waverly said as they stepped back from one another. “I know.”

Wynonna’s fist curled at her side by Peacemaker and she glared at the big wooden spoon and fork decorating their kitchen wall. “I lost one sister already, and this whole morning, all I was thinking was how I can’t handle losing you, too. Think I’d burn everything down and just give it up. You’re all I’ve got left. Everything that matters to me is right here in this room. So just to be clear, babygirl. You’re not allowed to die.” Wynonna shrugged a shoulder, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “Ever.”

“When I thought I wasn’t going to see you again, my heart just broke, Nonna. For me and for you.”

Wynonna sniffled, shrugging out of her leather jacket and hanging it over a chairback. “How many tears can one person cry in a day. Think I’m going for a record here.”

Waverly laughed wetly, hands on her hips, pushing into them to try and clear herself of her own emotions. “I think this one time, it’s okay.”

“Oh, and speaking of everything that matters to me being in this room.” Wynonna walked over to the pot pie and pointed at it. “You know I’m eating this, right?”

Waverly sighed. “At least share it with our guests.”

“Rats.” Wynonna punched sideways through the air. “I’m gonna miss the days where you made these just for me.”

“Somehow, Wynonna, I don’t think that’s true. You haven’t been much of a lone wolf since you moved back in, since you met a certain redhead. You even seem to be warming up to our brooding boss lately.”

Wynonna turned on the oven to preheat and smirked. “You’ve got a point there. Even I’ll admit, this is the best time of my life. Covered in shit and tears and everything. We’re still here, aren’t we? Still fighting every day. All I know is that if you can manage to love me, Wave, after everything this family put you through, then the rest of the world can eat a bag of dicks. I was so fucking empty walking through this world on my own like I deserved to serve some kind of penance for things that I couldn’t even control. I’m done looking for redemption for a kid who didn’t even get a chance, or a choice. You were always going to be the only forgiveness I ever needed, and I’ll lay down my gun before I walk away from you, babygirl. You’re the love of my goddamn life.”

Life, Waverly thought, wiping away another stream of tears, was funny like this.

It was like this house. Or like this kitchen, where two sisters were circling around one another in a sea of memories, pulled by the currents of anguish from an ocean of time that had swept them away long ago.

But like a miracle, or maybe a gift, in this house of life, there were sounds of laughter and cheer just there in the other room, and at any second, Waverly and Wynonna could start swimming against the tide, didn’t have to constantly get dragged under, could choose their direction for once and drift into calmer waters. They could do that together.

These things are possible and knowing that mattered. You could swim against a wave. You could walk against the wind. You could pass through fire. You could sink into the earth. You could dive off cliffsides. You could outrun lava. It was possible. Happened more often than people realized.

You could survive all those things, or one of them, and it wasn’t until you made it to the other side that you could understand how strong bodies were made, how even in pain, especially in pain, they could still be moved.

Waverly had made it, over and over again, to finally stand here, across from Wynonna, in the house she’d patiently been existing outside of, and as they revolved in their sea of memories, their fingers reached and brushed and intertwined. The waters cleared and these sisters whirled around each other, like babies in a womb, eyes wide open.

Waverly was seven years old. Wynonna was thirteen. Their hands had just slipped apart and the little sisters looked upwards. Inches from the surface they saw a reflection of two women standing in a kitchen, returned to one another. The little girls smiled as they drifted apart. Their story was only just beginning.

* * *

Nicole and Dolls were quietly eating a serving of the reheated chicken pie, forks clinking on plates while Wynonna had disappeared upstairs to take a shower. She came back down in a soft long-sleeved shirt, pajama bottoms, and a different pair of house slippers.

She rolled up her sleeves and asked who wanted coffee. Nicole and Dolls both raised their hands. Still schoolkids, Waverly mused.

Wynonna looked at her sister sitting deep into the cushion of the comfy blue armchair adjacent the larger sofa, right leg crossed over her left, foot twisting around as she nursed a pink mug with little purple stars and golden halos. Her almond milk hot chocolate was still steaming.

Wynonna walked past, reaching out to tickle under her chin as she went and Waverly tipped her head back to allow it, turning to watch her sister disappear into the kitchen.

She returned her attention to their guests. The drugs still had the deputy a little funny because Nicole was desperately avoiding looking at her. The few times she had, she’d smile a knowing sort of smile, shake her head and look off.

Waverly had been staring at her for the past five minutes or so, awaiting the next glance her way.

“Ahem.” Dolls looked between Waverly and Nicole. “Earp,” he said, “This is the best thing I’ve eaten since I got to Purgatory. Been takeout and station coffee for me, so thank you.” He set his plate down on an empty spot on the coffee table away from all of Nicole’s things.

"Oh." Waverly felt a blush coming on. Her boss liked her food. “You’re welcome.”

Wynonna was handing out coffees when a knock at the front door came. Sipping from a black mug, she walked over to answer it, revealing Sheriff Nedley. His graying hair was turned in different directions and he was scrunching his Stetson at his side, his uniform all kinds of wrinkled.

“Hey,” he greeted warmly. “Was hoping I could check on my deputy.”

Nicole immediately put her plate down and gripped her armrest, pushing herself up onto her feet. She didn’t wince like before, the medicine numbing out her pain. “Sir,” she answered.

The Sheriff shuffled past Wynonna in alarm. “No no, Haught. Sit down. They told me about your back, just wanted to set eyes on ya.”

“About your Chevy, Sir. Had to abandon it to take cover and I’m not sure where it ended up.”

“Well, that’s nothing to worry about. It’ll turn up. Eleanor McCreary told me everything about the call you got, that you left her safe in her basement to go get Waverly. Dolls said you two got caught in the tornado. Haven’t seen one do any real damage around these parts since ’87. You’re lucky to be alive.” He looked at Waverly, checking her over and she nodded to let him know she was fine.

A frown pulled at Nicole’s mouth. “Sheriff, was someone not lucky?”

He stewed his teeth. “Well. Funnel was traveling south, turned east and made it to McCreary land, hit their house, ripped off the roof, and the rain caused all sorts of water damage. Their barn was leveled to the ground, killed off some of their laying hens, scattered the other ones all over the property. Place looks like a bomb went off just on Eleanor. Sally York came by to take her in for the night, looks like she’ll be staying there until the insurance money comes in and they can start repairs.”

“Damn,” Nicole muttered, rubbing along her chin. “I gotta see her then.”

“She’s devastated, but still thanking the lord that I sent you her way yesterday evening. She sleeps on the second floor, didn’t know about the storm and she didn’t have her hearing aids in before she saw you drivin’ up out her window. Her husband and son usually take care of these sorts of things, but you know, Wade is still in hospital after his stroke and Gavin is out on the road delivering shipments of their grain to keep up with payments for his father’s life support.”

“Any casualties?” Dolls asked.

“Yeah, we got one. Not a local though. Storm chaser. He got himself turned around on our backroads, I watched his dashcam footage, he went into a dead end and a tree came down, blocked him off. Tree wasn’t very big, so he got out his van to drag it out the way. Got one end lifted ready to pull when a lightning strike hit the other end. Electrocuted the unlucky soul. He landed face first into a puddle. Looked to me like he was paralyzed, but still alive. Video showed him twitching around, and that’s how we found him, just drowned in that puddle.”

“Christ,” Nicole muttered, lowering herself to the couch by the armrest.

Waverly closed her eyes, remembering the storm chaser’s white van with radar equipment on its roof. Recalled him on the side of the road with his video camera. Chasers fed information to the weather station, risked their lives to keep everyday people updated. He had been staring at the sky, pointing and chatting up a second storm chaser on the shoulder of the highway just before Waverly’s exit.

“His wife is gonna drive down and ID him soon as she can get someone to watch her kids.”

Nicole picked up her coffee, mouth curved grimly. She took pause to shake her head. “Always a bad day for someone somewhere.”

* * *

Before Dolls and Nedley left together, the Sheriff came by to hug Waverly, his rough bristly face grazing hers and she found that quite comforting of him. He patted her back and murmured that he would have some guys get her Wrangler right side up and tow it to the homestead for her, that she could come see him when she returned to work to file a police report. She was going to have to call her insurance agency to file a claim.

Waverly groaned as she filled the bathtub with steaming hot water and swirled her good hand through it, feeling the temperature to make sure it wasn’t scalding. She left the bag of Epsom salt on the sink to be poured in after Nicole had her initial bath, a good soak would help soothe her back, the spasming and the bruising.

Satisfied, she left the bathroom and called down the stairs to Wynonna that the water was ready.

She had brushed her teeth before readying the tub and was in need of a good night’s rest. She’d only pieced together a total of three hours the night before, body too wired to properly shut off.

Wynonna had volunteered to help bathe Nicole after Waverly rubbed the deputy’s shoulder in sympathy and said she must be feeling rough having not showered yet.

Nicole looked relieved that it would be her friend seeing her in a state of undress and Waverly couldn’t fault her for those feelings. She was about to climb into bed, longing for a heavy sleep when Wynonna called for Waverly, yelling across the hall that she forgot the towel.

She pushed away from her bed and dug out one of her own from a drawer and carried it to the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and she could see Nicole sitting up in the middle of the tub with her head tipped all the way back. Wynonna sat at the ledge in front of her, using a small dish to pour water over Nicole’s hair, scratching down her scalp as she rinsed out the shampoo.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Nicole murmured.

“Shut up before I drown you.”

Nicole chuckled.

“Stop that!” Wynonna shrieked. “You’re gonna make me get your stitches wet! Then you’ll get an infection and die, and what a shitty way to go, survive the twister, get wrecked by infection. Real badass, Haught.”

Waverly smiled, rapped on the door and they both looked over. Nicole shrunk a little into the water, but Wynonna’s body was shielding her out of sight.

“I’ll just leave this here,” Waverly said, coming in a little and hanging her dark blue towel on the door hook. “Night, you two.”

“Night, babygirl.”

“Goodnight, Waves.”

Waverly returned to her bed and sank her face into her cool pillow. She drifted off to the sounds of hushed bickering, water splashing and soft peals of laughter.

* * *

Nicole had stayed at the homestead for a total of four days. She’d started moving around completely on her own after two sessions of physical therapy. A week later, she was cleared for administrative duty and a week after that, the deputy’s gait was effortless as ever as she sauntered around the station, moving her body around in uniform like she’d never been injured.

Waverly stopped by the breakroom, knowing Nicole was set to arrive at 9 AM, and saw the deputy was early, wearing her gunbelt full of gear for the first time since she’d returned to work. Waverly walked further in, holding a paper shopping bag by its curved handles as she approached Nicole who was fiddling with the basket in the coffeemaker.

Nicole glanced over her shoulder at the sound of boot heels clicking into the room against the department's checkered linoleum floors.

The deputy’s gaze traveled down Waverly's translucently loose frilly white blouse that was tucked into her light blue jeans. Waverly had left her blazer off in the BBD office.

Nicole blinked a few times. “Hey, Waves, havin’ a nice morning?”

As Waverly reached her, she set the bag to the left of Nicole and looked behind to make sure no one was loitering around nearby. She turned and pressed her right hand over Nicole’s lower back, above the hem of her pants. She couldn’t quite reach the area she had spent time massaging.

“Nicer now that you’re here,” she replied. “How’s your back feeling?”

Nicole’s upper body was a little stiff, so Waverly rubbed between her shoulder blades, easing the tension out of them. She slid her arms around Nicole’s thin waist and hugged her, resting the side of her face against Nicole’s upper back, inhaling her freshly laundered shirt, the clean soap off her skin, and the pleasant hint of vanilla sweetness that always clung to her.

“You’ve gotten skinnier, why?” she asked.

"Hey, don’t worry so much, Waves. My back is feeling great now. It was just an acute injury.”

Waverly squeezed harder now that she knew Nicole could take it. “There was nothing cute about it.”

Chuckling, Nicole poured water into the coffeemaker, setting the carafe into its holder. “What, you didn’t find me adorable rolling around your cellar floor?”

When Waverly didn’t say anything, Nicole reached down, rubbing over Waverly’s clasped hands around her front. “I’m skinnier because physical therapy has me doing lots of exercises and I’ve been going for walks every morning and evening to boost my recovery. I talked to Shae last week and she sent me a very thorough email after our conversation with a list of stretches to help me along. Said if I do them almost every morning, my back will be stronger than it was before, so I have that to look forward to.”

“Mm. That’s good.”

Nicole switched on the coffeemaker and tapped the brown paper bag. “What’s this?” she asked.

Waverly let go of the deputy, pushing a bit of loose hair away from her face as Nicole turned to look at her, leaning against the counter. The jagged scar down her left eye was healing, the skin pinkish and raised slightly, but all the abrasions from her cheek were gone and she was looking healthier.

Waverly’s own stitches had been removed as well and the scar on her forehead had healed in similar fashion, if a little darker than Nicole’s, and her knuckles had a telltale mark over three of the bony joints.

“I noticed how small your waist was looking yesterday and since I cooked for Wynonna last night, I brought you some leftovers.”

Nicole picked up the paper shopping bag and reached in, pulling out a hefty, brick-shaped rectangle wrapped in foil.

“That’s two servings of cornbread.”

Nicole hugged the foil packet to her chest. “God, Woman.” She set it down on the countertop at her side and pulled out the Tupperware dish fitted with a red Snap-On lid.

“It’s a Ritz cracker stuffing, made spicy for Wynonna, with slices of roast chicken breast for you and I added a wing in there, most people like the wing, and there are root veggies to go along.”

The entire length of the glass dish was filled with the buttery stuffing and thick juicy cuts of chicken breast laying over it. Waverly had brined the meat for hours to make sure it came out moist and flavorful, and she had to put a foil over the chicken’s chest partway through the cook time to keep it from drying out. Over half of the dish was a colorful medley of caramelized parsnips, carrots, beets and potatoes.

“The dish is microwave and oven safe, just take the lid off before you heat it.”

Nicole set aside the Tupperware and took Waverly’s hands in hers, holding them to her chest.

“Waverly, you know I’d give you the deed to my house and the title to my car if you married me, right? You could just take me for a spin and you’d walk away with everything.”

Waverly squeezed the fingers of the hands holding hers. “Nicole, don’t say things like that. I've been warned to never trust a sweet-talker and you’ve got the sweetest mouth I know.”

Nicole’s brow raised. “Is that so? If I remember correctly,” she said, looking over Waverly’s shoulder to check for witnesses. When she saw none, she let go of just one of Waverly’s hands and stepped back from her, smoothing down the front of her uniform shirt. “We agreed on a proposal complete with a ring, didn’t we?”

To Waverly’s surprise, Nicole reached into her pants pocket and dug around like she was searching.

Waverly had no idea what the deputy was getting at as she lowered down on one knee, holding up a –

“Nicole, what are you –” Waverly covered her mouth and started laughing at the sight of a thin silver ring. Nicole raised her three fingers outward and up, the bare metal circle held between her thumb and forefinger to reveal a silver key dangling from it. She turned over Waverly’s right hand that was in her left and set the key into her palm, smiling brightly up at Waverly.

“This is a key to my front door, opens the door lock and the deadbolt.” Nicole stood back up, setting her hands firmly over Waverly’s shoulders, expression going earnest. “Should you ever find yourself leaving work in any bad weather condition, or really if anything unsavory has you hesitant to make the drive home, you have my permission to use it. I have a spare guest bedroom and I also have a basement furnished and prepped for emergencies. Even if I’m not around for any reason, as long as that house is under my name, it’s yours if you need it.”

Waverly worked her jaw. “Nicole,” she said, voice wavering as she looked up at the deputy. “This is the nicest thing anyone's ever given me.”

“It may not be the princess cut we were joking about, but it’s worth a hell of a lot more to me that I know you’re safe. Long as you stay that way, I don’t require anything else.”

Waverly stared at the key. This dollars’ worth piece of metal was the richest gift anyone had ever handed her. She tucked it safely into her pocket to be added to her key bunch as soon as she was back in the office with her purse.

She ran her hands up Nicole’s arms and shoulders to interlace her fingers around the back of the deputy’s neck, raising up to place a kiss on her cheek, tempted to sit Nicole down at the breakroom table to simply gaze at her for the rest of the day and never leave this moment behind.

“Thank you, Nicole,” she whispered. “I don’t know what to say. Just thank you.”

Nicole smiled tenderly, fingers brushing over the spot that had been kissed. “Did you want to take my address down?”

“Yes, I’ll remember it.” She would never forget.

“Okay. I’m just ten minutes up on Main Street. Left on Redwood Lane. House 20-11. There’s a green Jeep Trailhawk in the driveway, you can’t miss it.”

Waverly hugged the deputy, their first chest-to-chest embrace as Nicole bent closer and gathered Waverly’s body tight to hers.

“I can’t believe I’ve never even been to your house, Nicole. I can still picture you wandering around in your underwear in mine.”

Nicole chuckled and they pulled back from one another. Her brow furrowed. “It’s Friday and you don’t have work tomorrow, right?”

She shook her head. “No. No work tomorrow.”

“I’m meeting your sister this evening at Shorty’s. Don’t know if you’re interested in going to a bar you used to live above, but we’ll be playing pool and having a few drinks. If you want to join us, I’d love it. You both are welcome to sleep over at my house instead of driving home. Wynonna already has a key and she’s been a bunch of times, but you could check out my guest room if you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” Waverly said. “A night out.” She hadn't had one in a while.

Nicole packed the lunch Waverly had prepared for her back into its bag and put it away for later on a shelf in the ancient fridge that hummed in the breakroom.

“Great, I’ll be there around seven. Come by when you’re ready.” Nicole's phone buzzed and she pulled it out. "Damn, I'll have to come back for my coffee. Nedley needs me. I'll see you tonight, Waves," she said, heading out the breakroom.

Waverly went by the sink to get the electric tea kettle, but she crossed her arms in amazement at the gift she'd received and spun around to brace against the counter, one stylish ankle boot hooking over the other.

The deputy jogged back in right up to Waverly, grabbing the edges of the counter at either side of her, moving in and bending so they were eye level.

“Forgot to return this to you,” Nicole said, turning her face into Waverly’s, dropping a soft kiss to her cheek.

Waverly’s lips parted in surprise as Nicole pulled away and remained in her space a few long seconds, their mouths distractingly close. Nicole's brown eyes peered into Waverly’s, like she saw all kinds of things, then tilting her head, she leaned in and Waverly's breath hitched.

Nicole was gone from her suddenly, walking backwards out the breakroom, and she asked, “When are you going to send me on my way, Waverly Earp?" 

Waverly breathed out shakily as Nicole vanished. She felt desperate to walk through the old saloon doors in the evening as the sun went down and the moon took its place in a great big dark sky.

On a starry night, to the sounds of passing cars and crickets and heartbeats, her darling deputy would have to answer for all she'd done.


	11. Chapter 11

Waverly entered the dimly lit bar to the acoustic strumming of a lone musician’s soothing baritone filtering into her ears, a nameless artist sat at the stage with his steel six-string, singing about a girl.

_“…she walked alongside me, to a lost girl's melody, I dusted off my soul, told her I didn't have much more, she took me in her arms, said she never felt such love, well darling, if that's true, will you tell me what's scarin' you...”_

The live performance was accompanied by sounds of pool balls breaking and the buzz of a dozen different conversations.

Waverly’s heels clicked down the wooden platform steps, purse hanging off her upturned left wrist. She ran a manicured hand through the tangles of her washed and blown out hair, down the layers of her silky brown tresses.

A dozen leery eyes zoned in on her, trailing up her legs, traversing the small of her waist in a thinly belted skirt, stopping to stare at her chest in a dark sheer blouse that hung off one shoulder.

Smells of charred meat and bitter beer wafted through the room mixing with strong colognes and sweet perfumes. Andy, a barback fresh out of Purgatory High, carried a large tray of cheeseburgers and fries, serving clutters of tables as efficiently as he could, the crew of men who worked for York Brothers Construction Services exhausted after a long day spent raising the new barn at Eleanor and Wade McCreary’s farm, doing some of the labor for free as they charged mostly for the materials to help the family going through a tough time.

Kyle and Pete York were soiled and haggard, thanking Andy audibly as Earl and the other construction workers started shoveling food into their mouths, slumping in their seats and reaching for their ales.

On the far side of the bar sat a rowdy bunch of rodeo boys; Bradley Walker, Champ’s longtime rival among them. He whistled when he saw Waverly and blew her a kiss that she batted away, habit from when he did it to rile up her ex-boyfriend before their saddle bronc competitions.

By the right wall of tables, Suzie Collins, a younger girl she mentored in high school, waved hello as she folded up her walking cane to stow away in her backpack infinitely full of paperback books, and her best friend Brooke shot Waverly a saucy expression, dragging her finger through the air down the length of her outfit to indicate she approved.

Waverly smiled and waved at them as she stopped by the stage, digging into her purse for a few bills, dropping the notes into the unfamiliar musician’s upturned Stetson. He politely nodded in thanks and serenaded the saloon with another verse.

Waverly heard her sister’s laughter seconds before she saw her down by the pool table, flirting with an out-of-towner by the looks of it, some put together good-looking guy.

Wynonna had her dark hair loose and her leather jacket off, leaving her in a sleeveless pink shirt messily tucked into her jeans.

“Babygirl!” She jumped up from her leaned position, her ancient goddess of wisdom and war necklace, a captivating bronze Athena key with protective charms, swinging wildly on its long metal chain. She put her pint glass down, beer sloshing to one side on the green felt pool table. “You made it!” she said cheerily, loose-limbed, but not wasted.

“I did,” Waverly said, looking around. “Where’s Nicole?” she asked.

Wynonna tossed the white cue ball into the air. “Had to take a phone call, she went out the side exit for some quiet.”

“I’m Dan, by the way,” the stranger with her sister said, holding out his hand. Waverly shook it and she tried not to wince at his hoppy breath, his bland eyes assessing her with cumbersome interest. “You look like you came here to have a real good night.” He moved in a step too close, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw, white teeth predatory and on display.

Wynonna picked up the pool stick and jabbed it hard into his butt cheek, making him leap away from Waverly like a spooked horse.

“Ah, ow, ow ow!” Any sense of bravado diminished as he rubbed the right of his rear, glaring back. “What the – ”

“That’s my little sister, buddy.” Wynonna had the sincere wolfish nature between the two of them, aura meaner than a wild animal when she got her hackles up. “Don’t make me add your balls to these balls. I’ll snap ‘em into a corner pocket if I have to.”

“All right, all right,” he muttered in submission as Wynonna tossed him the pool stick, swigging back her beer as Dan went to line up his shot.

Waverly gestured towards the bar. “I’ll go order a drink.”

Wynonna wiped the back of her hand over her mouth. “Want me to come sit with you?”

“No, finish your game,” Waverly said. “Knowing you, there’s probably a bet hinging on it anyway.”

Wynonna smirked. “Damn straight. When I win, Douchebag Dan is on the hook for my bar tab.”

He harrumphed. “ _If_ you win,” he corrected, sinking a striped yellow ball, moving on to another shot.

“I’ll come back,” Waverly said, turning and walking around to the front, sidestepping a tipsy girl. She slid into the first empty stool, dropping her purse on the oakwood bar top.

On the other side, John Henry Holliday, Doc as he liked to go by, was mixing up a whiskey sour with his back to her. She leaned her chin into her palm and watched him fashioning the cocktail.

He was a relative newcomer, not well known, but after Waverly landed the job with Black Badge, Aunt Gus put Shorty’s up for sale and admitted she was having a hard time keeping up with the ranch and the bar, a memory of Uncle Curtis in every corner and every doorway.

She sold the saloon to the fairest bidder, gave Waverly an unexpected check; buy some nice things and live a little, she’d said, and suddenly the bar once called home was gone, her seven-year relationship with it, and the ranch she had spent the calmest years of her life on went silent and abandoned as Aunt Gus left to travel in her middle age, visit with old friends and distant relatives, see some of the big wide world that Uncle Curtis never got to.

At the farewell dinner, Waverly fought off the urge to whisper to her aunt to stay as she handed her the basket of bread rolls, the only solid person left in her life that had stood the test of time. She bit the inside of her cheek every single day until the moment finally came to drive her aunt to the airport in the city, dutifully rolling her two suitcases towards check-in.

“You call me often, you hear?” Aunt Gus had said. “Anything at all and I’ll come right back. And you have the keys to my ranch, just check in on it every month or so for me, oh Curtis won’t be happy I’m lettin’ his tomatoes rot, but I can’t hang around here any longer. Come now, girlie, don’t fret with that little face. I ain’t gone forever and I’m always gonna be your second Momma, ain’t I?”

Afterwards, she sat in the airport café, tugging her gray knitted cardigan sweater around herself in a soft cotton embrace, staring out the large row of windows at all the planes taking off, one after the other, wishing Aunt Gus had been her only Momma as she wiped away her stubborn tears.

A stranger had walked by and set down a pack of pocket tissues on her table. Didn’t look back or anything to intrude on her emotions, just kept on moving, like the world kept moving because no matter what was happening, it turned and turned, with or without you.

The lone singer’s voice broke through her thoughts as he started up another song.

“ _…she looked at me and she didn’t see, lost in a world all her own, how my life was a woman, and hers was her own, so I walked away, thinkin’ another day, she’d look my way, and it hurts sometimes when the one you love is so hard to find, drowning in her mind. Is it loud in there, will she look out here, oh darling, is it loud in there?”_

“My, my, my,” a deep southern voice drawled, pulling Waverly’s attention away from the stage. “Could it truly be that the most popular girl to ever pour a pint is right here in my bar? Whatever can I do for you, Miss Waverly Earp?”

Waverly smiled up at John Henry in his flowery-patterned button down and tight black vest as his hands moved with ease, scooping ice into a silver cocktail shaker. He was one of the more stylish men in town and Waverly always liked to see him in his western frontier outfits, with his bold mustache and neat goatee, face full of stubble, the brown length of his combed hair slick under his Stetson.

He screwed on the top of the shaker, lifting it by his shoulder, tossing back and forth for a few seconds.

“Hey, Doc,” Waverly replied. “I’d love a vodka soda with a splash of pineapple please.”

He poured out the whiskey sour and passed it along to his waiting customer, accepting a ten-dollar bill. The young man waved for him to keep the change and Doc hit the sale button on the old metal register, dinging its cash till open. He slid the bill inside and shoved the drawer shut.

“Coming right up, sweetheart,” he said, and it comforted Waverly how he spoke to her, like he meant his endearments truly, the way a mother might say it.

He scooped cubes of ice into a highball glass, grabbed the club soda gun and filled it partway, tipping over a bottle of well vodka between his nimble fingers, then the pineapple juice to top it off.

He delicately tapped a lemon wedge down onto the edge of the glass, grabbed a straw with one hand and a napkin with the other, placing the white paper square in front of Waverly with a flourish as he slipped the straw into her drink and set it down in front of her.

“Can you start a tab for me?” she asked, sliding the glass closer to herself.

He clicked one corner of his mouth, his thick mustache twitching with his smile. “Afraid not. That aunt of yours struck a hard bargain, had it written into our contract, Waverly Earp drinks for free.”

Waverly laughed at the twinkle in his light blue eyes. “Thank you, John Henry. You’re a very nice man with a very nice mustache.”

He leaned across the bar over his folded arms. “Go ahead then, Miss Earp. Give it a tug. I assure you, it is real.”

Waverly giggled. “Oh my god, you’re not Santa!”

Doc shook his head. “No, indeed I am not, but like the old saint, I have been known to hand out coal from time to time. Great for catching fire if you carry around a little dynamite.”

She raised a brow. “You carry around dynamite?”

He pushed his black Stetson up with his index finger, looking dashing as ever. “How else is a cowboy supposed to cause a little trouble or light his cigarillo?”

“I can buy you a lighter. You’ve heard of those, right?”

“Sure I have, but where is the fun in that?”

Doc looked over her shoulder and frowned, throwing down the dishtowel that hung over his shoulder. “If you will excuse me, those rodeo boys are scuffin’ up my brand new tables.” He rolled up his sleeves and walked off.

Waverly glanced around the bar, sipping her drink, and by the time she polished off a second vodka soda and turned down two men in twenty minutes, she was feeling a strong buzz, her mind wandering, eyes catching the singer again, listening to his lyrics.

_“…in the middle of town, she turned around, she finally forgot herself, yelled across the road, where’s that singer, he’s been singin’ so long, and I heard his song, was he singing to me? Why didn’t I see? Baby, why didn’t you see? But you’re coming for me, wooah-oooh, you’re coming for me, been waitin’ so long, and you’re coming to me…”_

Waverly stood up out of her stool, she knew she shouldn’t go searching, but she was getting antsy and she didn’t think her presence would be unwelcome, so she pushed away her glass, her blood thrumming in her veins and she left her purse with Wynonna before she headed towards the side door, pushing into the breezy late night.

Nearing nine o’ clock, it was dark, crickets chirping from leafy trees that lined the street in front of the bar’s parking lot. The open door offered a flood of light as Waverly stepped through and she saw Nicole’s willowy figure a little ways down leaning against the brick side of the building in the narrow alleyway.

In her left hand, hanging low at her side was her cellphone and her right hand clutched a rocks glass to her chest, cradling it close to her heart. She was staring up at the sky, into a sliver of space, head tipped back and the performer’s raspy voice followed Waverly through the door.

_“…see sometimes when you don’t complain, nobody sees your pain, you can look so strong, be so tough so long, but lover girl, we were just the same, in a world of hurt, dragged through the dirt, I’d been a mangy mutt, but I got rid of my fleas, got up off of my knees, I fled the world, and I found you, girl, yeah, I found you, girl…”_

Waverly let the door fall shut, welcoming the nighttime silence, and something about the quiet posture and all that stillness signaled to her that Nicole was well intoxicated.

She swallowed and her heart sped up. “Nicole?” she called out.

The shadow standing there came to life all at once, pushing off the brick wall and turning to face her.

“Waverly?” she said, shoving her phone into her jeans pocket. She looked down at her almost empty tumbler like she was ashamed. She ran a ragged hand over her face. “Waves, I thought…after an hour passed, I thought you weren’t coming, that you changed your mind.”

Nicole’s gaze looked her over, soft and appreciative. She took a step back, hand lifting in Waverly’s direction. “But look at you, you look so nice, your hair, it’s styled so pretty, that must be what took so long.”

Waverly didn’t know why her eyes stung. “Nicole, stop walking backwards please.”

The deputy looked confused, then down to her well-worn boots. “Oh,” she said, halting in place.

A car rolled down the road, the passing headlights illuminating Nicole from behind for a few seconds, showing her dark jeans and denim button down shirt, allowing Waverly to see her lustrous auburn hair and gorgeous marred face. Waverly sighed at the drunken, beautiful mess with her two undone buttons and her rucked-up sleeves.

“Can I hug you?” Waverly asked. As her pupils adjusted to the dimness, she moved bravely towards Nicole, the deputy slumping back against the brick wall to let the other girl have her.

Nicole slid an arm loosely around her hips when she was in reach, pulling her in by the small of her waist and Waverly ran her hands over Nicole’s upper arms, feeling soft muscle through rough fabric.

She wrapped her hands into Nicole’s shirt collars and pulled, guiding the deputy across the tight alleyway until her own back hit the opposing stone-wall building, Nicole stumbling with her as she buried her face into Waverly’s neck and shoulder, the liquid in her rocks glass spilling over her fingers.

“Waves,” she groaned, the tip of her nose dragging up into the side of Waverly’s hair, inhaling her coconut-scented shampoo. “Christ, you smell good.”

Waverly let out a breathy laugh, hands interlacing around Nicole’s long neck, fingers curling into the soft ends of her hair.

The deputy pulled back a little and lifted her glass in show. “I swear I was drinking neat liquor earlier.” She sighed. “But Doc thought it would be funny to keep plying me with these whiskey gingers.” She peered mournfully into the glass. “They go down so easy, I was drunk before I realized it.”

“I understand,” Waverly said. A whiskey ginger would go down easy, sweet as they were.

The side exit slammed open and Waverly jumped, hands clutching around Nicole’s shoulders at the suddenness of light and slurring voices, her own fright startling Nicole into pitching her glass backwards.

They looked over at two wasted men coming out of the bar who froze up at the violent sound of glass shattering. The low light reached across to touch down the scar under Nicole’s left eye. The guys stumbled off towards the back lot, speed-walking away as quick as they could.

The door’s rubber stopper came loose as it swung back, keeping it from closing fully, leaving the door inches ajar to allow the caustic strumming of the musician’s guitar to spill out.

“Oh no,” Nicole whispered. “Now I have to pay for that.”

Waverly laughed and leaned up, holding tight to Nicole’s face to kiss her cheek. “Yes, you do.”

Her peripheral caught sight of a rare little gray opossum prowling by and Waverly stared at it, supposing the nocturnal creature wanted to take the route through the alleyway around back to the garbage bins. Its beady eyes met her gaze for a few seconds before it skulked away.

Nicole pulled back from her, feet unsteady, and she splayed her hands on the rocky brick at either side of Waverly, who looked up at her curiously.

“Can I?” Nicole asked, voice low and pleading, and Waverly’s heart squeezed in her chest.

“Yes,” she whispered. She dropped her hands from the sides of Nicole’s jaws down to her shoulders. She offered her cheek, and when nothing happened, wondering if she misunderstood, she turned just as Nicole leaned in, their noses nudging together, lips brushing. Waverly could taste the sweet ginger ale and smoky bourbon. Her heart thudded painfully against her ribcage at the soft press of their mouths.

Nicole froze, jerking back. “No,” she uttered, eyes filling with anguish. “I’m so sorry, Waves. I didn’t mean to.” She stepped back, taking Waverly’s hands in hers, falling to the ground on her knees, jarring Waverly’s senses, making her heart ache. “I didn’t mean to,” she said intently, brown eyes wide and distressed. “I swear I didn’t mean to.” She shook her head. “I – I understand if you want me to go.”

The singer’s voice raised, coming rough from the bar.

_“…I was just a little one, just a son of a gun, hadn’t known a home, and I was all alone, look what they done to me, how they made me feel, and when those boys were lookin’ at you, I was looking, too, so I prayed to die, if you ever caught my eye. Baby, you could throw me away, it’d be just another day, and I’d be okay, I been livin’ this way…”_

Waverly’s lips parted, wracked with guilt. She shouldn’t have let it get so far. Not with Nicole intoxicated. She had never gotten so carried away in all her life. Never wanted something so bad that she didn’t think it through.

“Nicole, look at me, you did nothing wrong.” She tried to tug Nicole up by her hands, but Nicole wouldn’t budge, too mortified about the kiss, inebriation heightening her emotions.

She bowed her head, voice like wet gravel. “Swear I didn’t mean to.”

Waverly tugged one of her hands out of Nicole’s to cup under her chin and force her to look up. “Nicole, you did nothing wrong.” She tried a different tactic. “I’m lonely up here, come hug me and we’ll go inside together. You can get some water and sober up.”

Nicole looked even more in despair at hearing that, face falling. “I never meant to make you feel lonely.” Nicole inched forward on her knees, still seeming so tall as she wrapped her arms around Waverly’s thighs, pressing the side of her face against her stomach. “I won’t leave if you say so.”

Waverly dropped her head back against ruddy brick in disbelief. She couldn’t quite believe what alcohol did to the deputy. She stroked through Nicole’s mussed up hair as the timbre of the singer’s voice went low and raspy.

_“…good god, how it tears me apart, to give you my heart. I won’t come inside, if you won’t hold me tight, I won’t take your hand, if you don’t understand that I’m just a mutt, I’m just a mutt, I’d found scraps enough and I’d given up, a stray can’t handle half your love, so give it all, please give it all, or let me walk, ‘cause they brought me so low that I got this tall…a stray don’t love halfway at all…”_


	12. Chapter 12

Nicole entered the bar through the side door with Waverly tugging her along by her hand to an empty pair of stools. They sat together and Nicole ordered a tall glass of water, guzzling half of it down. She looked over at the stage and her eyes brightened, noticing the performer taking a break, standing behind the microphone and sipping water himself from a bottle.

“I’ll be right back,” Nicole said, getting up, a little steadier now. She strolled across the room and stopped by the singer’s Stetson at the end of the stage, pulling out her wallet. Waverly smiled, leaning her head against her hand as Nicole fingered through the bills in her leather bifold, then grinning up at the singer, like she knew she was about to shock him, the deputy turned over the whole thing and shook loose all the notes into his hat.

Waverly’s eyes crinkled in delight as the musician’s jaw dropped, his hand flying over his mouth in surprise. She could see the two exchange words before the man leaned his acoustic guitar against his stool and put his water down.

He walked over, crouching at the end of the stage, hand going flat on the surface as he hopped down, waving the deputy in for a hug. It was quick and jovial before he signaled for her to wait while he jogged back up the steps onto the raised platform, avoiding the live sound equipment and cables to rummage through his guitar case. He pulled a CD out of an inner pocket and walked back down, gifting the album to Nicole in return, an expression of joy on his pleasant face, fingers tousling nervously through his dark hair.

Nicole looked down at the little plastic square, ran her hand over it almost reverently, then smiled at him. They talked a little longer before Nicole returned, putting the CD on the bar top as she sat.

Waverly picked it up, reading aloud, _“_ Strayin’ or Stayin’ by Noah Reid Halliwell,” and the album cover was of a starry blue night sky, a shadow of a man hugging his guitar, trailing the silhouette of a woman hugging herself.

“He travels between cities and towns playing any venue he can book. Loves to sing for the small crowds,” Nicole told her. “Seems like a cool guy.”

Waverly would have never known that. Might never of learned this man’s name or saw such beautiful artwork that offered her a glimpse into his soul.

Her brow furrowed as she looked up. Nicole was an achingly beautiful person. She understood simple things about life, like how to make someone’s day, even part with yourself to do it, and it made Waverly wish suddenly to know everything about the deputy, from the moment those pretty brown eyes blinked up at the world, to the moment that brought her right here, sitting in front of Waverly.

Nicole must have been such a precious little girl with long wild red hair and skinny gangling limbs, all grass-stained shorts and dirtied up tees, hands scraped and knees bruised from playing outside every chance she could, and Waverly felt a strange desire to hold that smaller version of Nicole to her chest, make sure she was showered with lasting love like Waverly hadn’t been.

The sensation made Waverly wonder why she felt so safe all alone with Nicole, even when the deputy was intoxicated.

Intoxicated and alone was something Waverly avoided if she could, why she had appreciated that Champ rarely drank, so careful about what he put into his body, and yet Waverly felt like she could have been left with and kissed by Nicole for hours, tasting ethanol, smelling alcohol, still wanting it, still would have let Nicole have her right there in the alley, just like she could have had her in the cellar, and it drove Waverly a little mad to think about it, so used to being chased, and suddenly she was chasing.

“1-800-Report-a-Crime!” Wynonna yelped from the other side of the bar. “Haught Cop – I’m being swindled!"

“It was fair and square!” Dan argued back loudly.

Nicole and Waverly stared at each other, hearing Wynonna retort, “ _You’re_ fair and square!” making them laugh as they got up, rounding the bar to the pool table together.

“I’ll keep this for you,” Waverly offered, carrying the CD to her purse that was on a chair by Wynonna’s side, tucking it safely away. She returned, hugging around the deputy’s arm and Nicole could hardly pay attention to anything else but Waverly.

Dan’s eyes bugged out, looking between them.

“Dipstick Dan is robbing me blind,” Wynonna whined, cradling her key pendant and charms. “I can’t lose my Athena necklace, she’s all I have left of Greece!”

Nicole frowned and looked between the stranger and Wynonna. “I mean, I could win it back.”

Tossing his hair a little out of his face, Dan said, “I beat your friend three times.”

“Sure,” Nicole replied. “But she’s shit at pool when she’s drunk.”

“Burr, am not.” A pool ball fell from under Wynonna’s arm. “Oh shit,” she whispered, bending to pick it up, swaying as she stood. Waverly let go of Nicole to steady her sister.

“Fine,” Dan said, rubbing his buffed fingernails over the breast of his silk shirt. “I’ll give you a chance to win back the necklace.” He grinned at Waverly, then looked at the deputy. “For a dance with your girlfriend.”

“Deal!” Nicole agreed. She bent her knees slightly and splayed her arms out to the right theatrically, like she was displaying an impressive artifact up for auction. “Wynonna is my girlfriend!” she announced, dimples on display, her smile so big.

Dan rolled his eyes and took a sip of his obnoxious drink, not even a fan of the Negroni with how he winced, turning his face to the side and airing out his tongue.

Wynonna’s jaw had dropped. “Way to throw me under the bus, Haught!”

Straightening up, Nicole shot back, “You’ve danced for less, Earp!”

Wynonna seemed to contemplate it, then sighed. “You’re right, Aphrodite can dance for Athena.”

“They’re sisters, aren’t they?” Waverly asked, pressing her fingers to her temple, trying to remember.

Wynonna pulled a disturbed face, then said, “Babygirl, I went to Athens to gaze longingly at the statues, lounge at the beaches, tour the Acropolis, eat loads of spit-roasted meats at rustic little taverns, drink good ale, and sleep with the locals like the proper foreigner I was. Most days I woke up not remembering what I did the night before, so trust me when I say, I do not recall the mythology.”

“Oh man!” Nicole said, running a hand through her hair, eyes alight. “I’ve always wanted to go to Greece! I would climb Mount Olympus! And visit Amphipolis! Xena was born there, you know.” Nicole nodded sagely, rubbing her chin.

Waverly stared at the side of Nicole’s face. “You do know that Xena isn’t –”

“Nuh uh uh!” Wynonna interrupted, both hands raising in alarm, eyes narrowed. “Do not try to tell Nicole that Xena isn’t real! You’ve never seen her mad before, but she owns a replica Chakram and she knows how to throw it!”

Nicole looked up suddenly, raising one hand in the air like she was meaning to deliver a monologue, voice slow and strong as Wynonna mumbled, “Oh, here we go.”

“In a time of ancient gods, warlords, and kings…” Nicole started. “A land in turmoil cried out for a hero.” She bobbed her head back and forth, closing her eyes, humming the intro music, Waverly’s jaw falling slack as the deputy continued. “She was Xena. A _mighty_ princess, _forged_ in the heat of battle.”

Waverly had no words, but, “Hercules was better,” Dan interjected.

Nicole’s eye twitched, mouth snapping shut. Her hand reached for the triangular pool ball rack, fingers wrapping tight around it.

Flinging her hands dramatically into the air, Wynonna cried, “Dammit, Haught! Not everything is a Chakram!” as the deputy weighed her possible wooden projectile, the most sinister expression on her face that Waverly had ever witnessed.

“Like a boomerang, a boomerang,” Doc sang to himself, carrying up a crate of alcohol up from the basement, passing by and around to the bar.

“You’re a cop,” Wynonna reminded Nicole. “How will you explain this to Nedley? I’m the one who starts barfights here, not you!”

“He's on season three,” Nicole replied. “He’ll understand.”

Waverly gently coaxed the makeshift throwing weapon from Nicole’s hand, rubbing up and down her arm. “I think we need to get more water in you, hmm?”

Nicole looked down at Waverly, face going soft. “You’re like a tiny Amazon, you know?”

Waverly laughed, pushing the deputy towards the bar again. She heard Wynonna say, “One more game, Dan Man, if you win, I’ll hand over the keys to my Harley, she’s a sweet ride.”

Waverly abruptly turned about face, a little miffed she had to do this in three-inch heels and her short pleated skirt, but she was currently getting around in Wynonna’s pickup truck while waiting on the insurance payout for her Jeep and Wynonna was never more stupid happy than when she was revving around town on the Sportster 1200 their uncle left for her.

Seeing Mrs. McCreary’s lawnmower dangling over it through their barn roof was a wakeup call for Wynonna to stop being so precious with the bike and Waverly was not letting her sister force them to commute together every morning while Wynonna worked all kinds of crazy off-the-clock hours.

She plucked the pool stick out of her sister’s hand, chalking the end as she offered to play in Wynonna’s place, bartering with the dance Dan had earlier asked for.

He agreed and let her break, the one chivalrous thing he’d done all night, and Waverly sank four shots in quick succession before missing, and not long later, she was striking the cue ball with enough force to gently roll the black eight ball into a middle pocket to end the match, making easy work of Dan, having picked up the game during slow hours at the bar.

Nicole sighed, expression dazed. “You’re so pretty and you’re so cool,” she said, slumped against the bar counter with her water.

“Yeah, babygirl,” Wynonna said. “Why aren’t you swindling people with me more often? I had no clue you played this well.”

Waverly smirked, turning to catch Nicole’s gaze. “What can I say?” She did her best warrior princess impression. “I have many skills.”

Nicole swooned. “Aphrodite, have mercy,” she whispered, resting the side of her head over the bar top, Waverly giggling as she overheard.

Doc came by and leaned over the deputy, gently laying a cool cloth across her forehead. “My apologies for all the whiskey gingers, Officer Haught. I should not have made them so strong.”

“It’s okay.” Nicole patted his hand. “I’m drunk on something else entirely.”

“Oh,” Doc said wistfully. “I have surely been there before.”

* * *

Waverly took Dan’s money, his expensive Cartier watch, his paracord bracelet, and Wynonna was currently messing with his pocketknife, shrieking when she found the quick release button. “Shit, Dan!” she exclaimed. “Why are you carrying around a switchblade!”

“Careful!” he growled, one hand fisted into his hair, watching his expensive blade clatter to the ground. “It’s a souvenir!”

“From what?” Wynonna asked, picking it up and gesturing to his slacks and tie. “All your Rambo days?”

He sat himself heavily at the edge of an empty table. “Could be,” he grumbled under his breath.

“Had enough?” Nicole asked. “Or does our tiny Amazon need to take your fancy loafers, too?”

The deputy had taken up the seat with Waverly’s purse next to Wynonna, hanging the bag over the chairback as she sat, left foot on the ground, right leg crossed sideways, ankle over a knee, balancing a plate full of fries and abandoned pickle slices as she took a bite of her grilled chicken sandwich.

Andy came by their end of the bar and put down an order of hot wings with slices of celery, carrots and a bottle of ranch sauce. Wynonna closed the switchblade and stowed it away into her silver-studded leather boot, clapping her hands. “Yay!” she cheered and ran over, grabbing the moist towelette packet provided by Shorty’s, tearing into it to wipe her hands before she dug in, fingers quickly getting smothered in wing sauce.

Waverly went to Nicole, looking into her plate as she leaned into her tall pool stick. “You don’t like pickles?” she asked.

“Not really,” Nicole said. “I used to, but I ate two whole jars of them once when I was a kid, and well, I guess I never recovered my taste for them after puking up all that vinegar juice.” She shuddered a little, then lifted her plate, keeping the last bite of her sandwich between her fingers. “Want these?” she asked, indicating the basket of fries. "I'm full."

Nicole popped her last bite into her mouth, picking up the napkin that she had draped over her knee earlier, unfolding it one-handed as Waverly got herself a fork and a bottle of ketchup, accepting the basket, spearing up the unwanted pickles as well.

Nicole stood, going to the counter and leaving her empty platter by Wynonna. She hugged her around the neck, resting her chin in her hair. “I might have given all my money away,” she confided. “Please buy a hungry copper her supper.”

“It’s fine,” Wynonna dismissed. “You pay all the time anyway.”

“Nice.” Nicole let go and stepped back, turning and stretching her arms overhead, denim button-up raising to reveal her black leather belt as she arched slightly. “Bathroom for me,” she announced. “This is why I drink whiskey neat or on ice,” Nicole complained. “Now I got all this extra liquid.” She shook her head and walked off, Waverly staring after her.

“Here,” Waverly said, putting her winnings down next to her sister. “Pay with Dan’s money.” She looked back at Dan, who looked disheartened. “Come on,” she said. “You’re drunk, too. Order something to eat.”

He glumly sat down and waved for the barback. “One more game,” he tried. He pulled out a fancy cigar packaged in a plastic tube. “Maybe your girlfriend likes to smoke.”

Waverly put down her fry basket, took the cigar and tucked it back into his shirt pocket.

Wynonna turned to glare at him and said through a mouthful of chicken, “Just shut up, Dan. Just shut up. Nobody likes you.”

He huffed, looking away. “You’re a whole lot of nobody then.”

Wynonna threw a slice of celery at him. 

He fumbled with it against his chest. "Love veggies," he muttered, snapping half of it into his mouth. 

Wynonna tossed a chicken bone next.

“I actually need the bathroom as well,” Waverly said, not caring to be in the middle of this.

Wynonna waved her off and Waverly left them behind, walking past a group of construction workers, Earl at the forefront, concentrated on aiming at the dartboard. He nailed the bullseye, causing cheers to erupt from his buddies as Waverly turned into the hall that led to the restrooms. She pushed through the door to the Ladies Room, moving aside for another girl on her way out.

She entered the poorly lit space with dark red stalls lined across a long row of white porcelain sinks. Nicole was bent over one of them with cupped hands, splashing cool liquid onto her face, hair falling forward.

Waverly crossed her arms and leaned there by the wall adjacent a tampon dispenser, studying Nicole, who stood up, turning the faucet off by its handle. She swiped two napkins out of a holder hung at the side of the mirror.

Having clocked Waverly already, she smiled, turning to lean her hip against the rim of the sink as she dried off her face, then her hands. “Hey, they’re all free,” Nicole said, indicating the empty stalls.

“Are you feeling better?” Waverly asked.

Nicole nodded. “Much better,” she said, face looking refreshed as she walked towards Waverly, pausing by a garbage bin to throw away her tissues. “I was just thinking a good cup of coffee would turn this night around.”

Waverly grimaced. “Well, good luck, Shorty’s never made a decent brew. The pre-ground beans here are awful. I once had a customer spit it out and ask for a refund.”

Nicole laughed, digging through her front pocket to pull out her Chapstick, removing the cap and applying a layer. “Did you give them their money back?” she asked, recapping and pocketing the tube.

Waverly pressed the point of her shoe against the checkered tile, smiling. “I tried to, but he changed his mind and ordered another coffee. I told him it would be the same thing, but he was insistent. Add more sugar, brew it longer, use cream, not half-and-half, all kinds of instructions. I think I brought him four cups before he gave up and started day-drinking.”

Nicole laughed. “Gosh, if I were sitting at your bar, I would have just drank the damn coffee.”

“Why?” Waverly asked, pushing off the wall and closing the last step between them, making Nicole’s eyes drop down to her mouth as her space was breached. “Would you think it’d get you my attention?”

Nicole’s brow furrowed. “Wouldn’t want to hassle you, is all. I mean, ordering the same thing four times is pretty, um,” she stepped back as Waverly stepped closer. “Excessive,” she trailed off.

The bathroom door opened noisily, jolting them towards the sinks together.

Suzie Collins limped in with her cane, green eyes widening when she saw them there. She pushed a loose brown strand of hair out of her small face. “Oh, hey, Waverly, hey Officer Haught,” she greeted.

“Hi Suzie,” Waverly returned.

“Hey, Sue,” Nicole said.

Waverly’s brow ticked up at the familiarity.

Suzie smiled bashfully and stopped in front of Nicole, knocking the handle of her wooden cane to the deputy’s shoulder. “I’m loving that novel you lent me,” she said. “I’m just tearing through it, did you want to switch books again next week, I’ll probably be done by tomorrow.”

Nicole sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m sorry, Sue, it’s been hectic for me, I only just started the one you gave me last time, but I’ll definitely bring the second book of Survivors of the Citadel next Friday for you.”

“Oh, take your time,” Suzie insisted. “You’re busy and you just healed up, but I’m happy you introduced me to the series. Who knew I’d be into a queer anti-hero who hugs a teddy bear to sleep and assassinates evil members of The Regime left and right?”

Nicole leaned forward, fully invested in this exchange. “I know, she’s tragic and fun, isn’t she?”

“Totally!” Suzie looked over at Waverly, ponytail swinging. “Waverly, are you trading books with Officer Haught, too?” She turned to Nicole. “Waverly used to mentor me in high school, I was bad at History and terrible at French, but she saved my GPA, and then we had Book Club together before she graduated.”

Waverly, arms crossed again, turned to give Nicole a look. “No, Suzie. I didn’t realize our deputy over here had a public library system going on. I would have applied for that membership had I known.”

Nicole smiled sheepishly. “It’s just me and Sue trading books every week or so. She has lots of good recommendations.”

Suzie smiled widely. “Officer Haught is picky, won’t read anything with male heroes or straight leading ladies.”

“What, I get bored easy,” Nicole complained. “I told you. I’m not much of a reader. I prefer the outdoors.”

“Same, I just love all the rock-climbing I get to do,” Suzie said sarcastically and the two broke out laughing. “Anyway,” Suzie said when she calmed down. “Brooke is probably going to assume the worst of me if I stay in here any longer. She’ll worry I fell in the toilet or something, I gotta hurry and get back out there. Take care, you two.”

“Take care,” they both replied as Suzie shuffled along to the large corner stall.

“I’ll wait for you out there,” Nicole said, giving both girls privacy as she exited the restroom.

* * *

Waverly found Nicole in the hallway, hands shoved into her jean pockets, single bulb flickering dimly over her face. She was leaning up against the wall, one boot hooked over the other, looking deep in thought, turning her head when she caught movement coming her way.

“Still willing to take a chance on Shorty’s coffee?” Waverly asked.

“Actually,” Nicole said, glancing down at her watch. “Beau’s diner opens late on Friday nights and it’s only a ten-minute walk. They make the best espressos and take credit so I should be good. I was thinking I would go pick one up.”

Nicole looked towards the end of the hall. “This bar doesn’t have much in the way of vegan food, but Beau’s Diner does,” she said, almost absently. “Noticed it on the menu a while ago.” She looked back at Waverly. “I can call you with some options when I get there, if you like?”

“Worried about feeding me now?” Waverly asked, smiling.

Nicole chuckled. “Well, a tiny Amazon requires protein like the rest of us.”

Waverly's heart had been twisting ever since they came back inside. “Nicole, can I come with you?” she asked.

The deputy kicked off the wall. “Of course you can,” she said.

After an explanation to Wynonna, Waverly retrieved her purse and they walked to the front entrance together, Nicole holding the door open for Waverly to go ahead.

“Have a good night, you two!” they heard and they paused by the exit to look back at the musician kneeling up on the stage, flipping the latches down on his guitar case. He waved at them, broad grin on his face.

Nicole and Waverly waved back, wishing Noah goodnight and good luck before they pushed through the saloon door and were cast out into the dark together again.

Waverly pulled her purse strap over her shoulder, heels clicking through the parking lot with Nicole’s boots hitting gravel at her side.

Barely a minute passed as they turned onto the sidewalk to travel along the main road before Waverly gravitated towards the deputy under the dull glow of the lampposts that lined the streets.

She nudged herself under the comfort of Nicole's arm, who smiled down at her, cupping her shoulder and bringing the other girl close into her side.

“Let me carry that for you,” Nicole offered, holding her hand out.

Warmth bloomed across Waverly’s chest, a blush spreading up her neck as she handed over her purse. No one had ever carried her bag for her before and it felt like such a silly, romantic thing to do. Nicole hugged the large purse to her chest and braced her head on Waverly’s as they walked, and Waverly looped her arms around Nicole’s waist, fingers lacing together over her hip.

They strolled by a ten-foot-tall vaulting wrought iron gate that surrounded the well-kept grounds of an impressive stone building, and Waverly glanced momentarily at Ghost River Elementary, her old grade school. She sighed.

“Can we talk about it, Nicole?” Waverly asked.

A soft, “Sure we can.”

A car sped down the road and Waverly gazed up at Nicole. “You’ve felt a little distant from me since it happened.”

Nicole inhaled, looking up at the stars in the sky. “Yeah, the more I sobered up, the more it sank in. Not just how we sort of kissed, but the way I acted after.” She squeezed Waverly’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I scared you."

Waverly hugged tighter around the deputy. “Nicole, you know you did nothing wrong, right?”

Nicole remained quiet for moment. “I was worried you might feel uncomfortable, think I was after you for something,” she said as a white pickup drove past them. Waverly’s heart stopped as she recognized Champ’s truck. She stiffened, hoping he didn’t notice her.

The white truck slowly reversed back down the lonesome road.

“Hey, you clammed up, Waves. Am I saying this all wrong?”

Nicole stopped walking and looked up when Champ’s door flung open, her ex-boyfriend coming around his car in his bejeweled jeans and polo shirt, looking annoyed.

“What the hell, Waverly?” he demanded, stopping in front of his car. His face was screwed up in frustration and he looked hurt. “Three weeks!” he exclaimed. “It’s been nearly three weeks since you almost _died_ , and every time I made the drive out to the homestead, your jerk sister kicked me off the property, she wouldn’t even tell you that I came by. Then I get a text that you’re at Shorty’s out of the blue, all dressed up and messing around.” His voice went low, anguished as he asked, “Do you know how worried I’ve been? How unfair this feels? You won’t take my calls or answer my texts, not even to just let me know you’re okay?” Imploring to her, he said, “Don’t you know I still care about you, Waverly, after everything?”

Something tightly wound snapped inside of Waverly.

“I was nineteen!” she screamed, a deep chasm opening right through the middle of her chest, a loud pounding in her ears as her blood pressure skyrocketed. “I was nineteen, wasn't I, you bastard!”

Champ’s eyes went wide at her outburst.

Waverly took a deep shaky breath, stepping forward as the night turned deadly stark in all its grave silence, the critters in the trees gasping at the agony spilling out of her, or maybe it was Nicole’s breath hitching that she heard.

“I’ve had all these months to think about it, but it finally struck me weeks ago. What really happened that night. We were supposed to celebrate one month of living together, you remember?” Waverly asked, eyes narrow and fiery. “I told you I was cooking something nice for you, that it was a surprise, remember?”

Guilt plastered itself across Champ’s face and confirmed the suspicion for Waverly, the thing that had been ruminating in her mind, and it enraged Waverly into taking another step forward, pointing at him. “How you smelled like that cheap cologne in your truck, the one your cousin gave you that you told me you hated. It was the first time I ever smelled it on you.”

Waverly ran her hands through her hair. “How could I be so naïve? How could I miss the signs these last four years and accept your ridiculous excuses for nights out, saying you were off playing video games at Pete’s house, Pete and his brother always work so hard with their dad, he wouldn’t have been playing video games with you, he would have needed sleep! And then the long hours you took to return after the rodeo? Everyone came to Shorty’s and you always straggled behind, it’s no wonder Bradley Walker would flirt with me so often and say he could treat me better!”

A rage like no other filled Waverly. “And the worst of it all, when I really think about it, the thing that gets to me most was last year when you started with your whining and begging!” Hands balling into fists, she started mimicking, “Come on, babe,” she said, stalking closer to Champ. “You’re on birth control, babe,“ she mocked. “I don’t like the condoms, it’s safe, it’ll feel good for both of us!”

She threw her hands out. “How many girls did you say that to?” she snarled, lunging for him right then, Champ lurching backwards and tripping off the sidewalk against his truck as Nicole’s right arm caught around Waverly’s waist, the large purse tumbling to the ground as Nicole dragged her backwards, her other arm strapping itself across Waverly’s chest.

“Whoa, okay," Nicole muttered, struggling as Waverly wrestled forward a few steps, the deputy forced to bend her knees to weigh Waverly down, who had her hands swinging through the air, too far to reach him across the sidewalk.

“Waverly, shit! Calm down!” Champ held his hands out defensively as he climbed onto the sidewalk again, face pale.

“I should strangle you, Champ Hardy!” Waverly yelled. "Imagine if I had actually agreed because you were my boyfriend, _whom_ I thought was committed to me, imagine all the diseases your dirtied up rodeo dick could have given me, or worse, if I had gotten pregnant and had a child with a shit-ticket dunce for a father like you!”

“Hey, hey,” Nicole tried to soothe by her ear, wrangling Waverly back again as she struggled incessantly. The deputy was too strong to pull completely away from, but she was so much swifter than Nicole anticipated and she was seeing red. Waverly arched unexpectedly into Nicole, bending her right leg sideways at the knee, smoothly slipping her pointed shoe off her foot, and yanking her arm back, she pitched it with all her might at Champ’s head.

He hollered and ducked out the way as the front of the shoe dinged his passenger window.

“Well damn,” Nicole said, chest heaving against Waverly’s back.

“What the fuck!” Champ cried, turning to his beloved truck, the only thing he had to his name.

Waverly was pissed off something worse when she saw no damage had been done. She quickly slipped off her left shoe as well and Nicole scrabbled to grab her arm and stop her, but Waverly was small and flexible, wriggled against the grip on her, cleverly tossing the heel from her left hand to her right one, and she hurled that shoe, too, aiming right for his car door, screaming, “You low down, lowlife, waste of seven years of my time, absolute fricking skuzzball!”

She watched with satisfaction as her skinny heel pierced the side of his back door before toppling to the ground, denting the metal panel, and she wasn’t done yet. “God, I hope you just drop dead, you half-a-man, bull-riding, melon head! And guess what, Champ Hardy, I lied!” she added, this one just for spite, eyes sparking viciously. “Bradley Walker looks better riding a bronco than you ever did, he’s way more cowboy than you’ll ever be, you baby-faced, carb-counting, whiny-voiced, rodeo clown!”

“You know what?!” Champ kicked the side of his truck hard and slammed his fist into the roof, Bradley's name a low-blow. “I don’t need this!” Champ seethed, stalking around his pickup to get back into the driver seat. “And screw you, Waverly!”

“You did that already and clearly it was worthless for the both of us!” she yelled back as his brake lights came on before he sped off, engine revving down the road.

So much adrenaline was coursing through Waverly’s veins.

Nicole let her go as soon as Champ’s vehicle disappeared, and Waverly turned around to look at the deputy, saw the wealth of concern and the way she visibly swallowed as furious hazel eyes landed on her.

Waverly grabbed Nicole’s shirt collars and pulled her in harshly, eyes filling with tears. “Don’t you ever! Ever! Do what he did to me!” she said with venom, her teeth bared and her eyes dark. She shook her head from side to side, looking at the ground as she tried to calm herself, panting hard. “I could survive him,” she said. “I could survive years of him leeching my life away, but I would die if you did this to me.”

Nicole brought a hand beneath Waverly’s chin to make her look back up, cupping firmly under her jaw, and she said, “I have never done a thing like that and I would never do a thing like that.”

She bent down and hugged under Waverly's arms, around her back, and standing to her full height, she lifted the other girl up off the ground, Waverly’s bare feet dangling against the deputy’s shins as she buried her face into the side of Nicole’s head, body wracked with quiet shuddery cries. Waverly sifted her fingers through messy hair, and curling her hands tight into the red locks, she thought she could just drag Nicole into her heart by the handfuls.

* * *

Minutes later, Nicole eased Waverly down by the sprawling iron gates in front of her old school building.

“Wait here,” Nicole said, and she turned around, going to the edge of the sidewalk, picking up the first red shoe, then stepping off the curb, she grabbed the other one off the road. She inspected them as she returned to Waverly.

The deputy looked concentrated as she went to a knee, setting the shoes down on the concrete. Nicole pulled a handkerchief out of her back pocket, a grey one today, shaking it open and lifting Waverly’s left leg, hand warm around her ankle as she wiped bits of gravel and dirt clean from Waverly’s foot bottom with the soft cloth, then picking up her shoe, she slipped it back on.

Waverly pushed her tongue into her cheek, face crumpling, and she tried not to cry again as Nicole began to take care of her other foot. She covered her mouth with her hand as she slumped against the ornate black bars that surrounded Ghost River Elementary.

She had so many memories from her days in this school. She jumped rope and played hopscotch behind the building in the yard during recess, where she met Champ for the first time, running from him and the other boys as they picked their noses and chased all the girls who would shriek and cry about catching cooties.

Her teachers were attentive and doting, and she was always allowed to sit with a coloring book and crayons at craft time. 

She fell in love with history after she learned about the indigenous tribes in the first grade, and Mrs. Hudson put a feather in her hair during a reenactment that she treasured for months before she lost it. She giggled over juice boxes and homemade lunches at the cafeteria tables with all the other little girls, where she met Chrissy Nedley, who had started saving seats for her.

But best of all was when class let out, Waverly’s tiny sneakers skipping down the front steps, clad in her little school dress and fancy leggings, rushing towards her mother with her Cinderella backpack bouncing. She would leap into her Momma's arms and squeal delightedly as she was caught under her arms and swung around before Michelle strapped her snugly into her booster seat, listening to her babble about her new friends all the way home.

The same Michelle who put her socks on for her every morning and tied her shoelaces before they walked out the door, who sometimes pulled splinters from her small foot bottoms after she’d survived an episode of Daddy while hiding out in the barn, her broken down mother who would kiss the roughened undersides of her little feet, clutching them against her face and weeping so openly that Waverly's young chest would heave and she would sit up and hug around her mother's shaking shoulders and promise it would all be okay.

Michelle would only weep harder and grab Waverly to herself, stamping teary kisses to her face and chest and shoulders, affection doled out helplessly all over her strong baby because sometimes children had more gumption, more hope, and more courage than their adult counterparts; easy to be brave before the world beat down on you; wonderful to be brave still after.

Waverly clutched at Nicole’s shirt collar as the deputy hung a hand over her knee from where she knelt in front of Waverly, looking up at the six-year old little girl staring down at her.

Waverly was mesmerized by long red hair and sweet squinting brown eyes. The sun was shining golden and warm through the fair-weather clouds. Eleven-year-old Nicole was in her junior high uniform, white button-down shirt tucked into khaki pants, smiling up at her and patting her small pink sneaker.

“Like it never happened,” she said, toothy grin on her kind face. "Come on, Waves. We can keep going."


	13. Chapter 13

The homestead was silent, everyone slumbering to loud rhythmic snoring.

Waverly, in her little nightgown and pajama bottoms wiggled herself down from her bed, Mr. Plumpkins hanging from her hand. Her thick diapers swished as she plodded barefoot around her room.

Waverly whispered for her teddy bear to be very quiet, and because he was scared, she kissed where his eye used to be, the one Willa had damaged, blinding poor Mr. Plumpkins. She turned her doorknob, peaking out into the hall and tiptoeing towards the staircase. Clutching the banister, Waverly climbed down slowly, short legs fumbling to descend the steps one at a time.

She almost broke out into tears on the landing as she stood in the shadowy room all alone, waiting to see if anything hiding in the dark would come get her. Her heart thumped in her chest and she inched towards the side table by the couch, tugging the silver beaded chain on the nightlamp, casting the room in a dim yellow glow.

She rushed to the television stand, turning it on, and crouched in front of the shelf with the VCR Player, picking up a 1950’s Disney VHS tape, inserting the video into the empty slot. The black box swallowed the cassette from her hands like a hungry mouth and made a funny sound. She had watched Momma do this so many times.

Waverly hit the little play button and her eyes lit up as Cinderella came to life on screen, singing, “ _A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes,”_ to the mice and the songbirds.

She laid belly down on the living room floor, chubby face cradled in her hands, little feet kicking in the air back and forth, the princess’s voice soothing and comforting. _“No matter how your heart is grieving, if you keep on believing, a dream that you wish will come true…”_

Her eyelids drooped partway through the film and Waverly jolted awake, alarmed at Cinderella’s stepsisters ripping the pretty pink dress off her body, and she drifted off to a magical bippity-boppity-booing fairy godmother.

Heavy footsteps creaked down the steps and Ward Earp, in just a pair of striped pajama pants, walked over to his daughter dozing in the living room. He tsked to himself, lifting Waverly into his arms off the cold hardwood floor, rubbing heavy strokes up and down her slight back, smelling of tobacco and her mother’s Shaladelle perfume.

Waverly blinked awake, and realizing who was holding her, she clutched her father’s nose, wringing it from side to side, causing strong, rumbling laughter to boom out of him. “So,” he said, a fond smile for his little girl, pressing a litany of kisses into her grabby hand and rubbing their noses together. “When the king is away, the princess will play?”

Waverly giggled, displaying a half-tooth smile, a spark of childish mischief in her eyes. She rested her head over her dad’s soft hairy chest, yawning there as her hands looped around his stocky neck and she had never been more small or warm or safe.

A dutiful prince on the television gazed midbow across the palace and froze, his vision filling with a beautiful girl lost out in the grand entrance hall. He was drawn to her, the instrumental orchestra playing a calming – _la dee da dee, la dee da dee, la dee da dee –_ the castle lights dimming, a purplish glow bathing the animated ballroom and spilling out into their living room.

Ward cradled Waverly’s small hand in his large calloused one, his right forearm hooked under her pampered bottom as he slowly swayed them in the open space between the sofa and the television.

Cinderella’s heart sang, _“Mmmm, mmmm, so this is love...”_ Waverly looked up at her daddy, corners of her eyes crinkling. _“So this is what makes life divine…”_

He pressed their foreheads together, smiling with her. _“I’m all aglow. And now I know, the key to all heaven is mine...”_ He closed his eyes, turning their faces together, her babyish round cheek against his scratchy one. _“My heart has wings and I can fly…mmmm…”_

He spun around, dancing them in unhurried circles, Waverly’s loving father. _“So this is the miracle that I’ve been dreamin’ of…”_

* * *

A discordant clock rang midnight on the flat screen in the back of Beau’s diner, an old Disney movie unfolding over the television. Waverly turned in the seat of the two-person booth to see Cinderella running down the steps of a sprawling red carpet, the prince calling out to her.

“Waves!”

Waverly looked over at Nicole standing down the open aisle of booths in front of a glass case of pastries. The deputy had gone to get herself an old-fashioned donut to go with her vanilla latte, while Waverly polished off her veggie burger and side of a carrot raisin salad.

“One second, Deb,” Nicole said to the middle-aged waitress who was behind the counter, working the Friday night closing shift.

Shoving a hand into her left pocket, Nicole turned and walked towards Waverly, gripping the handle of a tall white mug. “Hey, Debbie says the cherry chocolate cake was made fresh a few hours ago and it’s vegan, want a slice with your tea?”

“I’d love one,” Waverly said, smiling up at Nicole.

She tapped the edge of the table, turning around. “Great.” Nicole went back to leaning against the counter, sipping her drink as she chatted with Debbie about how her shift had been going and how things were at home.

There were two other customers in the diner, an older couple sitting by door, chatting the night away. Their voices carried, but Waverly couldn’t make out what they were saying, just heard the woman’s peals of laughter travel across the room, watching her slap her husband’s arm over the table like she was telling him to hush, but the giddy way she looked at him made Waverly think she never wanted him to simmer down.

Waverly had caught Nicole sneaking glances at them over her latte, close enough to eavesdrop, and whatever they were saying, it was making Nicole smile into her mug.

Debbie shooed Nicole away, who pouted, but followed orders, returning to Waverly and retaking her seat. She gestured towards Waverly’s plate. “How’s the carrot salad?” she asked. “Never had that before.”

“Here,” Waverly said, scooping up a forkful, cupping her hand under it to offer a taste. “Try it.”

“Oh.” Nicole leaned in and accepted the bite of thinly julienned carrots and burstingly sweet raisins in a pleasant vinaigrette dressing. She slid her mouth off the fork, and after chewing and swallowing, she said, “Woah, that’s really nice.”

Waverly nodded. “I like it.” She shifted in her seat to get a little more comfortable in the booth and the side of her shoe bumped into the front of Nicole’s boot. She apologized as she pulled her leg in.

Nicole put her latte down and folded her arms over the table. “It’s okay,” she said, nudging Waverly’s ankle under the table. Waverly paused midbite as Nicole’s long legs slid together with hers, rough jeans rubbing along the smooth skin of her bare calves.

Waverly locked her legs around one of Nicole’s under the table, finishing off the remnants of her late-night meal, not tasting it anymore with the way Nicole stared unflinchingly at her mouth, like she was set on it.

Debbie came by with a round plastic tray and put down Nicole’s donut, then Waverly’s slice of cake and a cup of steaming black tea.

“Will that be all for tonight?” Debbie asked, hugging her tray over her chest and looking between them.

“I think so,” Nicole said, looking to Waverly, who nodded yes. “We’ll take the bill.”

Debbie patted Nicole’s cheek. “Remember, a little shea butter on that scar every night, baby. It worked wonders on the stretch marks after my pregnancy.”

“Thanks, Deb,” Nicole said, leaning into the motherly hand. “I’ll check it out.”

“And you’re absolutely sure you can come by on Monday and clean out the gutters for me? I swear, I been beggin’ my boys for weeks, but they’re just too busy for their parents, I suppose.” Debbie sighed mournfully.

Waverly had heard the bad news that Debbie’s husband Leroy fell off his roof weeks ago trying to complete the arduous chore and dislocated his shoulder. He was already an older gentleman in his early sixties, making the fall perilous on his older bones. He was so close to retiring from his position as postman, and Debbie was in her late fifties, a manager at Beau’s diner most of her life. They were known around town for how hard they’d worked their whole lives to look after their children, sending them off to good colleges on their combined salaries in hopes of giving them better lives. It was also known that their sons, though being a manageable two hour drive away, never visited anymore.

Nicole reached out and squeezed Debbie’s hand in reassurance. “I’m happy to do it, Deb. Like I said, I start my shift late on Monday. I’ll come by around noon.”

Debbie looked a little put out, stuffing one of her hands into her yellow apron pocket. “And you’re sure I can’t pay you?” Debbie looked warily at Waverly, nodding towards the deputy and shaking her head like she couldn’t believe Nicole wasn’t willing to take payment for such a gruesome task. Waverly took a bite of her cherry chocolate cake, charmed and smiling at the deputy’s nature.

Nicole shook her head firmly. “No way,” she said. “I’ll just put the money back into your mailbox if you try it.”

Debbie laughed and squeezed Nicole’s shoulder. “Your parents raised you right,” she praised.

Something passed through Nicole’s dark eyes as she pushed her mug from one hand to the other. She shrugged a shoulder. “Just leave your ladder out for me, I’ll take care of the rest.”

Debbie wasn’t having it. “Now listen here, I went down to the butchers market a few days ago and picked up some very nice ribeye steaks and they just been sitting there in my freezer. I hoped to make them for my boys, but since you’re doing their work, it’s only fair you’re havin’ their supper. I’ll serve it with some creamy mashed potatoes and gravy and my soft buttermilk biscuits, and I have everything to make a key lime pie. You just bring your appetite when you come by, Officer Haught, you hear?”

Nicole grinned up a little too innocently at Debbie. “Well, if you insist, I mean, how in the world could I turn away your cooking? No,” she said, looking positively aghast. “That would just be plain rude of me.” Nicole looked at Waverly, a roguish glint in her brilliant brown eyes.

Waverly squeezed her legs around Nicole’s under the table. The little scoundrel had just worked her way into something much more valuable than money. Was there nothing Nicole wouldn’t do for a warm meal from a good woman? The deputy had no limits and it was starting to become the delight of Waverly’s life.

“Good,” Debbie said. “That’s settled then. I’ll bring the bill.” When she returned with the leather check holder, she eyed Waverly a little too knowingly, and slowly, as if she meant to say something by it, Debbie set the bill down right by Nicole, who picked it up with a murmur of thank you, fishing out her credit card from her wallet and passing it over.

Waverly hid a smile behind her cup of tea. Debbie ought to mind her own business.

When she brought back the receipts, Nicole slid one into her wallet with her card and picked up the pen strung to the check holder, scribbling her signature at the bottom, taking a moment to fill in a gratuity. Waverly peaked over the table and her brow ticked up at the amount she saw Nicole write in.

“Geez, Nicole. I’m lucky you were never one of my regulars. For tips like that, I might have taken you into the back of Shorty's to thank you.”

The pen fell from Nicole’s fingers. “Dammit,” she said, closing the booklet and positioning it at the edge of the table.

Waverly laughed at Nicole’s crestfallen expression, purse vibrating against her right thigh and she turned to the bag, searching through it for her cell phone, reading the text she’d received.

_I’m about to do you the biggest solid of your life, babygirl! – Wynonna_

Waverly frowned and started to type back when Nicole pulled out her own cellphone, having gotten a text as well.

“Ew,” Nicole muttered, looking up at Waverly. “Your sister messaged me that she’s gonna stay out with that Dan guy tonight.”

Waverly’s lips parted in surprise. Nicole had invited both sisters to sleepover at her house.

Nicole rubbed the back of her neck and revealed another thing Wynonna must have set in motion. “Um, your sister may have convinced me to come to Shorty’s on the back of her motorcycle earlier. Looks like you’re my ride home, Waves.”

Waverly’s heart picked up as she realized what that meant. They would be all alone together.

Nicole came to that conclusion herself. “Hey,” she said. “You can just drop me home if –”

“No,” Waverly cut in. “I’d still love to see your house.”

“Okay,” Nicole agreed. “Well, the guestroom has fresh sheets and everything.”

The deputy looked a little dazed as she finished her hot beverage and Waverly was silent as she sipped her tea, Nicole’s legs tangled with hers, every slide and pull a separate and intimate conversation.

* * *

“You can get into the left turn lane,” Nicole said, pointing ahead from the passenger’s seat.

Waverly squinted to read the sign, signaling left and following Nicole’s instruction as she drove down the main road. Waverly steered her sister’s clunky Ford pickup onto Nicole’s street, a residential block with rows of nice houses with neat lawns. Family-sized cars of all kinds were parked along the curbs, under shady rustling trees and the area had a peaceful atmosphere, most of the houses dark for the night.

“I moved my Jeep to the street earlier, you can just pull into my driveway, it’s this one right here,” Nicole said, indicating a light blue house with her police cruiser parked in front of it.

Waverly turned onto the gravel path, tires crunching up the sloped driveway that led into a backyard. She shifted her car into park, cutting the engine and reached into the backseat to grab her purse and her overnight bag as Nicole undid her seatbelt.

They got out on either side of the blue pickup and met by the passenger side, Waverly following Nicole in a shortcut up the front lawn to a white porch. They climbed up the couple of steps and Nicole pulled her keys out while Waverly noticed the lid of her metal mailbox was raised up a tad.

“You have some mail,” Waverly said while Nicole was stalled in the dark, searching through the keys on her bunch. “Want me to get it for you?” she asked.

“Sure.” Nicole smiled at her as she opened the first of the two front locks. “Thanks.”

Flipping the lid up, Waverly retrieved a short stack of white envelopes, looking down at what she assumed were a pile of bills, admiring the deputy’s printed address.

_Nicole R. Haught  
20-11 Redwood Lane  
Purgatory, Ghost River County_

She was surprised to learn Nicole had a middle name, something the Earp line hadn’t been in the habit of doling out. Nicole pushed the front door open, gesturing for Waverly to go inside first, accepting her mail from the other girl as she passed.

She flipped a light switch and Waverly nearly passed out in the entryway, hand flying to her mouth in horror. "Oh no, Nicole!"

Laying in the middle of the spacious living room was an orange cat, looking like it had keeled over on its back and died, arms up, legs out.

Nicole started laughing. “Waves, it’s okay. Meet Calamity Jane. I promise she’s alive," she said as she locked the door. "Just a drama queen."

Waverly clutched over her heart and took a deep breath.

Nicole dropped her keys and mail on a shelf by the door, kicking off her boots and walking into the room, looking back at Waverly with her hands out at either side. “She does this when she hears me coming up the steps, don’t you, Calamity Jane?” Nicole asked, going to lay over the furry feline on the floor. “Is my baby feeling neglected?” the deputy asked, settling on her side as Calamity Jane purred in absolute bliss at the scritches Nicole was giving under her chin. The cat turned over and climbed onto Nicole’s chest with her two front paws, chattering into her face like she was filing a complaint.

Waverly smiled, and bracing a hand on the door, she slipped her shoes off, leaving them near the base of a coat stand. She fixed Nicole’s hapless boots and put them neatly next to her heels, glancing around Nicole’s home.

It was beautiful, all white paneled walls with luxurious mahogany framing, crowded bookshelves with decorative pieces, two tall lamps on opposite ends of the room, an ergonomic chair in one corner with artwork hung over the television and lovely sheer blue drapes tied off at the windows.

Waverly moved towards Nicole where she was lavishing attention on Calamity Jane in the open area between a plush navy couch and a sleek entertainment system. She dropped her purse and overnight bag on the loveseat, patting her skirt down as she sat herself next to them, laying on her side opposite of Nicole, resting her head on her fist.

She reached out, running her left hand down the cat’s soft back. “Is she friendly?” Waverly asked.

Nicole peaked around the large mass that was Calamity Jane. “Yeah. Give her your hand.”

“What is she?” Waverly asked, cupping under the cat’s rounded muzzle to get its attention.

“A Maine Coon and Ragdoll mix,” Nicole replied.

Calamity Jane turned into Waverly’s hand, sniffing curiously. The cat had a gorgeous long shaggy coat, yellow almond shaped eyes, white extended whiskers, cute pointy ears, and a sweet expression. The feline pushed her wet pink nose into Waverly’s neck, making her giggle and fight off locking up at the cold sensation. “Oh, she is friendly,” Waverly said in amazement as the cat gave her scratchy little licks.

Calamity Jane turned back to Nicole, climbing over her face and plopping belly down, the deputy turning her head out to the side to breathe. “Christ, she tries to suffocate me whenever I leave her too long.”

Waverly could sympathize. “I might do the same thing if you neglected me.”

Nicole started laughing. “Just how I like my girls. Demanding and murderous.”

Waverly inched across the carpet to lay closer to Nicole, a happy tail swaying between them. Waverly stroked along Calamity Jane’s neck and body, addicted to the softness.

Whiskers twitching, the cat turned back to Waverly and pounced at her, making her squeal and flop onto her back as Calamity Jane curled up on her chest. “Aw,” Waverly cooed. “Look, I’m wearing fur.” She pressed kisses into her fuzzy forehead, rubbing between her pointed ears. “She’s such a sweet girl.”

"She's gonna be up all night." Nicole pushed up off the floor. “I’m gonna fill her food and water bowls,” she said. “I’ll just be a minute.”

Waverly nodded. “Okay, I’ll be here.”

Calamity Jane climbed off Waverly like she understood she was going to be fed and purred after Nicole’s socked feet, following her into the kitchen. Waverly got up, dusting off the stubborn little orange hairs that were stuck to her clothes as she looked around. She wandered over to the bookshelf, curious about Nicole’s reading interests, finding a whole section filled with outdoorsy magazines, and an alarming number of titles on rock climbing, knot-tying, and the best gear for the year.

“Oooh,” Waverly murmured, picking up the latest copy of National Geographic. It looked like Nicole had a subscription. She put the magazine back down as her eyes landed on a framed photo propped up almost carelessly on top of a holy bible. Waverly picked it up, studying the image of an older couple. A gorgeous grinning woman with long white hair posed on a porch swing in the arms of a handsome, but serious looking gentleman with graying copper hair and a deep cut nicked into his square chin.

Nicole shared the woman’s feminine, angular facial structure, but not her deep blue eyes, and Nicole had the man’s reddish hair. His dark eyes rang familiar, the same shade of brown as the deputy’s.

Waverly almost thought for a second that these were Nicole’s parents, but she recalled all the times Nicole mentioned her grandmother and grandfather. Oh yes, Grams and Gramps, Nicole had lots of little stories about them. Hearing footsteps, Waverly carefully put the photo down as Nicole padded back into the room.

“Want a tour?” she asked, then took Waverly around, showing her the downstairs bathroom that she was currently renovating, her cozy little kitchen, and a sparse den-area that was empty, yet to serve a purpose before they ascended to the second floor.

“Here’s the guestroom,” Nicole announced, opening the first door by the staircase. Waverly peaked into the cream-colored room, modestly furnished with a full bed, a nightstand, and a black chest of drawers. Everything enough for a visitor, and the closet door was wide open and empty, a couple hangers on a metal bar.

“I was hoping I could shower first,” Waverly said, hugging her purse and overnight bag to her chest.

“Of course.” Nicole pointed at the door opposite from hers. “That’s the bathroom.” Then she pointed at the open door at the end of the hall. “And that’s my room, knock if you need anything.”

Nicole insisted she take the bathroom first and promised to come say goodnight after she had a shower as well. Waverly couldn't understand anymore why they had so many pretenses between them. 

* * *

Waverly stood naked by the edge of the plush bed in the guestroom after applying her face cream and almond scented body lotion, freshly showered and searching through her overnight bag.

She pulled out a soft white cotton nightdress and slipped it on over her head. She decided against wearing her underthings, heart aching so terribly for Nicole to love her.

She picked up her purple satin bathrobe and carried it to the closet, draping it over a hanger to dry. She dug her brush out of her bag and began combing through her long brown hair, padding barefoot on the soft blue carpet through the room, stopping by the window. She pulled at the blinds, peering down at the street, eyes fixed on Nicole’s cruiser. The deputy had an evening shift tomorrow and would have to leave her, but for the next few hours, Waverly yearned to be close to her.

This whole day had been full of ups and downs. Nicole had gifted her a key to this house in an offer of safety, then they’d had a drunken mistake of a kiss that Waverly couldn’t regret, still remembering the sensation of Nicole’s soft lips and the whiskey scent of her breath, how Nicole looked in the dark alley, so tall and strong and gorgeous, and defenseless, too.

Waverly only ever had to close her eyes to see Nicole again, and sometimes Waverly saw her in uniform, a strapping specimen in a police blue shirt that fit her lean torso like a dream, always tucked into her pants, strolling around in those rugged tan boots, wearing a gear belt with a clip so easy to undo, it made Waverly’s mouth run dry.

She wished she’d been braver in the Archive Room. Nicole’s arms had been around her on the ladder and Waverly distinctly recalled wanting to be kissed, but also wanting to run away. She had this idea of Nicole pinning her there and taking her slow and hard, muffling her mouth with her own. She was so relieved when the deputy stepped back.

Sometimes she pictured Nicole the way she looked in her white flannel shirt and jeans, bent over her sister’s Ford F-150 the day she’d come back from the city after seeing Tommy, guilty about not telling him the truth. She had driven to the beach and walked along the shoreline all alone, crying tears that seemed so small compared to the ocean and cheered herself up by telling herself she could be happy on her own, just leave behind the things making her so miserable.

Then Nicole made her laugh so hard and so long, she’d reached out without thinking and hugged around her waist. She couldn’t believe that Nicole had stood there for over half an hour with her afterwards, a strong hand rubbing her upper back and shoulders, telling her everything was going to be okay with Waverly’s face buried into her stomach, greedy for affection.

She’d wished she’d been braver in her kitchen, too. All alone on the homestead after Wynonna ran out on them, Nicole had stepped up behind her and Waverly wouldn’t have known what to do if the deputy had taken her into her arms. Waverly was so vulnerable, she wouldn’t have fought her off, was starting to feel so safe, and looking back, she could remember the urge she felt to be taken from behind, Nicole’s strong chest against her back, mouth hot on her ear, asking how she wanted it, long fingers working her jeans open and shoving inside before Waverly could stop her.

She had so many fantasies of Nicole trying things with her, always merciless in her approach because Waverly hadn’t known her well enough yet to realize those were things Nicole would never do without her express permission. Nicole wasn’t some guy in town Waverly could just walk past, send a smile to and have jumping into her bed if she found herself interested. Nicole was a beautiful woman herself and that made things complicated.

Nicole could read her and in all the readings of Waverly, Nicole had treated her with such care, like a worn-out book with unraveling stitching, all her scribbled-on paper pages shaking loose with every poor handling. Nicole had found her in the dark section of life and put her up on the highest shelf out of reach.

Waverly thought back to the days after she overheard Nicole admitting to her sister that she liked her. She’d had a stressful argument with Champ in the BBD interrogation room and she made her way to the breakroom and found Nicole there with her sister. They stood together at a counter, Nicole quietly making two coffees and Waverly preparing her tea. She’d stared up at Nicole and really looked at her for a minute and the deputy looked back, confused and offering her sugar packets. She had paused for the first time on Nicole’s lips and wondered if women found her to have a gentle mouth and a tender kiss. There were no urges there yet, just a curious mind fixating on an interesting thought.

Waverly fell back on the bed, arms haloing around her head. Nicole had the softest, sweetest mouth and she’d barely gotten to taste it.

She heard the bathroom door opening, Nicole finishing her shower and heading back to her room.

Waverly got up and started organizing her things. She picked her wet towel off the bed and hung it on a door hook. She packed her overnight bag and left it on the chest of drawers with her purse, then went to the nightstand to check the time on her cellphone, finding it was well after one in the morning.

Nicole was supposed to come say goodnight and Waverly found herself standing by the door, hand over her heart, listening for footsteps, comforting herself with the thought that the deputy would take care of her their first time. She would be kind and go slow, and she wouldn't laugh at Waverly's inexperience. She'd understand that she'd only been with one other person in one specific way.

Waverly switched off the light and turned the doorknob, peaking out into the dark hallway, taking a deep breath and steeling herself. She walked barefoot in her thin white nightdress with her brown hair fanned over her shoulders.

She stopped in front of Nicole’s door, raising her fist and rapping lightly.

“Yeah, come in, Waves,” she heard.

Waverly pushed the door open and looked inside, finding Nicole standing at an elegant mahogany dresser, looking at her reflection in the mirror as she applied ointment over the scar under her eye. Waverly’s gaze traveled over the deputy in a pair of cozy sweats and a cotton black t-shirt.

She looked so soft in her room, and her room, Waverly realized as her eyes traveled over it, was the nicest space in the house. Calm green walls and warm blue carpeting, thick blackout curtains pushed off to the sides on both her open windows, and it made sense that Nicole would need her room to be dark sometimes with all the odd hours she pulled.

Waverly felt an ache in her chest. The deputy worked so hard and did so much and it seemed like she never stopped.

“Nicole, can I sleep with you tonight?”

Screwing on the cap to her tube of ointment, Nicole put it down, turning to Waverly. “Sure,” she said, gesturing behind herself at the bed politely.

Nicole was like that stupid old-fashioned donut she ordered at the diner. Soft and satisfying, but much too unassuming. Waverly could dip her in icing and roll her in sprinkles and she’d still be the most bashful admirer Waverly ever had. She went to one side of Nicole's queen-sized bed, lifting the extravagant burgundy bedspread to climb in under the covers, sinking her head onto two fluffy pillows.

“Want a glass of water?” Nicole asked, going to the door.

“No, I’m okay, thank you.”

Nicole ran a hand through her lovely red hair, reminding Waverly of the day she had tumbled into the deputy's lap at Mama Olive's diner after Nicole had let her go to her corner table. Across the room, she'd turned around just to smile goodbye at Waverly, looking so dashing and disheveled, messing her hair up so carelessly as she searched out Waverly's smile back, and Waverly's heart had started opening right there for her.

“Door open or closed?" Nicole asked, rueful look on her face. "If I leave it open, Calamity Jane will wander back and forth. Sometimes she sleeps in here with me.”

“Closed please.”

“All right.” Nicole pushed the door shut and flipped the lights off.

The room fell dark, curtains billowing with soft breezes from the backyard. Waverly pulled the covers aside when Nicole approached, and she murmured a thank you as Waverly covered her up.

Nicole rested on her back, staring at the ceiling while Waverly rested on her side, staring at Nicole. She subtly squeezed her thighs together, her nipples pebbled in anticipation. As her vision adjusted to the dim room, Waverly could see Nicole’s eyelids blinking, her scar visible.

“You remind me of Mr. Plumpkins,” Waverly said suddenly.

Nicole’s mouth curved to one side, chest vibrating with a chuckle. “Who is Mr. Plumpkins?” she asked, freeing her arm so Waverly could sidle up to her, resting her head on Nicole’s shoulder.

“When I was little, I had this teddy bear I would take everywhere. He was my best friend. Kind of like a safety blanket, I guess. My other sister Willa, I assume Wynonna told you about her, stole him from me and held him for ransom. She damaged his left eye, like yours is. I cried about it a lot.”

“Mm. I’m sorry.” Nicole pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’ll be the best teddy bear you ever had.”

Waverly felt foolish, plucking at the material of Nicole’s shirt over her stomach. “I have these silly memories of getting up in the middle of the night when I was really little. I think I used to go downstairs and slow dance with him.”

Nicole chuckled. “That’s not silly at all, Waves. I used to stand by my bedroom window at night and talk to the moon. I used to think it was following me. Drove my Grams mad, all my questions about it and I used to say the moon loved me, so I guess the moon was my best friend, but I could never dance with her, no matter how much she lit up my life.”

Waverly buried her face into Nicole’s chest and started laughing. “My god, Nicole. Anytime I think I’m being silly, I just have to get you talking.”

Nicole stroked up and down her arm. “Maybe one day you’ll dance with me.”

Waverly shrugged. “Maybe one day you’ll tell me you love me.”

Nicole’s hand paused on her arm. The room got quiet and Waverly could feel Nicole’s heartbeat pick up against her cheek. Waverly slid on top of her, right leg over a narrow hip, her breasts rubbing against Nicole’s. She pushed both her hands between the cool pillows to cradle the deputy’s head, their noses brushing.

“Waves,” Nicole gasped, laying prone.

Her nightdress was in the way, so Waverly reached down with one hand, lifting her hips and tugging the fabric up around her waist, her bare swollen flesh landing on Nicole’s abdomen over her shirt. A shaky breath left Waverly’s pursed lips at the contact.

She slid her hand back under Nicole’s head, Nicole’s chest rising and falling rapidly against hers.

“Baby,” the deputy whispered. “What are you doing?” Nicole slid her hands up her thighs and stilled at her smooth waist, eyes dilating when she realized Waverly wasn’t wearing panties. “Christ,” she groaned, guiding and dragging Waverly’s spread cunt along the flat of her stomach.

Waverly shivered at the slight roughness. “I’m seducing you,” she panted, forehead against Nicole’s. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, Waves, it’s okay,” she said, tossing the blanket aside, rolling them over so she was on top of the smaller girl in the middle of the bed, weighing down heavily between her open legs, Waverly’s clit rubbing against Nicole’s pelvis.

Nicole’s mouth covered hers, hot and insistent in a filthy kiss, tongue licking into her mouth, and Waverly went weak. She thought it would be slow and fumbling and gentle, but this was so much better.

Nicole hugged her under her arms, propping her up, mouth dipping down to suck at the hollow of her throat, and Waverly whimpered, pulses of arousal dribbling out of her, coating the front of Nicole’s pants, giving her something wet and warm to slide against. Nicole’s open mouth slid down the slope of her shoulder, biting her dress and sliding it off to taste more of her skin.

Nicole was all over her just the way she wanted her, and Waverly didn’t have to yield anything. Arms loose around Nicole’s neck, head arched into the soft pillows, being pressed hard into the mattress, jaw falling slack, Waverly closed her eyes, hips jerking as she came.

Nicole dropped kisses all down her chest and her hips stilled for Waverly.

“I’ve wanted you so long,” Nicole whispered, kissing over her racing heart.

“I know. I’ve wanted you, too,” Waverly returned.

Nicole chuckled, peppering kisses up her neck and then one on her mouth, staring into her eyes. “I know, baby. I know you’ve been scared.”

Tears burned at Waverly’s eyes, everything made better to be known and understood and loved so steadily anyway. “God, Nicole. I’m so terrified of you. The things I want you to do to me, the things you make me want to do. I feel like tying you down to this bed so you never leave me.”

Nicole pressed her forehead to Waverly’s in comfort. “That’s okay. I think crazy things too, Waves.”

“Like what?” Waverly asked, desperate to know. 

Nicole’s jaw clenched before she whispered, “Like how I’d like very much to die between your legs or in your arms being loved forever.”

Waverly’s mouth parted. “No.” She hugged Nicole tight to her. “Don’t say things like that.” Waverly held her face, heart aching as she pressed a soft kiss to her lips, feeling suddenly she needed to handle Nicole with the utmost of care. If Waverly was looking for someone who wouldn’t leave, she was starting to think Nicole was looking for somewhere to stay.

She rolled them so Nicole was on her back and she was on her side, pausing there to fix her nightdress down her legs. She draped herself over her deputy's weary body. “Come kiss me a while,” she said.


End file.
